Possession
by Mayonaka no Ame
Summary: Sorceresses and Knights, when together, kill people. This has always been a fact of history. Love doesn't create exceptions. In fact, love could make it worse. He would do anything for the chance to change her fate.
1. Repose

"_The most precious possession that ever comes to a man in this world…is a woman's heart."_

**- Josiah Gilbert**

-. **Possession** .-

PROLOGUE

_It was strange for him to realize how much he didn't care in that moment. _

_ He didn't care about the hundreds of people watching, even though many of them were government officials, colleagues, students and some mere children. He didn't care about his friends and family, the ones he grew up, the ones who had raised him, the ones he had recently learned to trust with his life, all screaming at him to stop. He didn't even care what they would do to him after this, however it turned out. _

_ There was no doubt that something had snapped, and he took comfort in the fact that at least he was aware of his folly. Somehow, that made it easier to function. _

_ His mission was straightforward after all. As clear as day. As bright as the sun. _

"Rinoa…"

_ The storm encompassing his mind relented a little at the name, hovering instead of suffocating, and Squall blinked away what felt like the effects of way too much champagne. Even though he hadn't had a drop tonight. _

_ Or had he?_

_ Squall blinked in confusion. His memories, his entire past, seemed to be muddling into some singular, mutating event._

_ Something wasn't right._

_With a violent shiver, he pressed his palms onto his temples, trying to ward away demons that only he could see. They dashed around the confines of his mind, taunting, teasing, laughing manically at his inability to control himself. _

_Quite simply, it was fate's doing. _

_Angry, jealous, omnipotent fate. _

_What an idiot he had been for thinking they could somehow avoid it. As if it were a spot on a map they could simply black out and detour around. _

_This was his destiny after all. Everything he had done, every breath up until this moment, had all been leading to this dire inevitability._

_Sorceresses and Knights, when together, hurt people. That had always been a fact of history. Love does not create exceptions. _

_In fact, he noted with a sadistic smirk, love makes it so much worse._

* * *

_-. **Possession** .-_

Chapter 1: …_Repose_ …

Balamb Garden was quiet; a rare and cherished state for administrators, faculty and students alike.

There was no threat of attack. No wars to fight. No dangerous missions to outline and fret about. Galbadia was put under strict military restrictions and was closely monitored be the newly formed World Council. The army of paparazzi that surrounded the building had gradually slinked away from their camp sites, having given up hope of sneaking a photo or interview with any of the young heroes. Even the grassy plain's wildlife seemed to hush itself in respect for the occasion of much needed tranquility.

Balamb Garden was quiet.

Every inhabitant could let go of their breath and relax.

Nothing but white noise.

Peace.

With a collective sigh of contentment, every single being residing within the mobile campus unanimously came to the same blissful conclusion: that it was all over.

After more than two years of turmoil including the war itself and its political backlash…it was finished.

Silence and harmony.

Summer serenity.

Finally, peace and quiet…

* * *

"**WOOHOOOOOOOOO!**"

Quistis promptly dropped the stack of papers she was holding as a result of her hands reflexively leaping up to clutch her chest.

The inhumanly shrill exclamation heralded the entrance of a petite woman skipping into the Commander's office, blissfully oblivious to anything beyond the joy of being alive. She casually plopped herself down in one of the office chairs, her smile painfully wide, and had already begun impatiently tapping her foot before her blonde friend even had a chance to catch her breath.

"For the love of…" Quistis took a deep gulp of air to compose herself while surveying the mess of strewn papers at her feet. Her outward façade let out no more than a soft sigh as the only indication of displeasure. "Do you always have to make so much noise when entering room?"

"Sorrrrrrry!" Selphie said through a smile, watching as her superior dropped to her knees to collect her once meticulously organized document. After a moment's contemplation, she too bent down the join her beneath the desk, hastily sweeping random pages into her lap in an effort to speed up the process. "But I was just so excited! I just handed in my _last_ mission report. The one about the extermination of the snow lions up near Trabia? Let me tell you, that was one painful piece of writing. D-U-L."

"That's D-U-…" Quisitis shook her head, knowing that nothing she said would be retained in the long run. "Never mind."

"There!" Selphie handed her dust covered pile of sheets happily back to Quistis, who accepted them with what she hoped was a genuine-looking grin of appreciation before returning to her high-back leather chair, readying to get to work again.

She was in fact so concentrated on getting the report back in order that she temporarily forgot about her loud, unwelcome visitor. That is until a bright flash of yellow caught the corner of her eye, almost making her drop the pile for a second time.

"What'cha doing?" the bubbly brunette asked, having somehow silently slipped behind the desk with the speed of a snake, allowing her to peer over Quistis' shoulder.

"A report." There was no point in emphasizing.

"That's got to be your last one, right? You've been filling these out for days. I procrastinated for two months and even I finished all of em'. And Zell got his wrapped up weeks ago!"

Quistis shrugged. "I'm just more…thorough I guess." Not to mention that she had to re-write all of Zell's because his one paragraphed 'detailed' accounts were barely legible English.

"Just a _little_ more thorough?" Selphie questioned while thumbing through the mass of papers piled almost a foot high. "Is this meant to be a general mission report or the great Galbadian novel?"

Quistis snatched the loose sheets out of her friend's hands, giving her a wry grin. "The clients want the specifics of where their money's going to. With my accounts, there leaves no room for questions. I'd rather spend a few extra hours on seemingly insignificant details than spend days arguing on the phone with them. Not to mention appearing unprofessional, disorganized, and lazy. Agreed?"

"I guess so..." Selphie's tone dripped with skepticism and Quistis scolded herself for even bothering to try and explain her procedures. "But, back to the point! You _gotsa_ be finished soon. Absolutely nothing is happening here! And Irvy was talking bout renting a cabin on the beach near Deling…I was thinking we could all head there for a communal elite SeeD break! And we could sunbathe and swim and go clubbin-"

"Can't," the strict SeeD responded instantly while sorting through the mass stack of to-be-confirmed contracts that crowded the inbox. "I have too much work to do."

"What work? I don't see any work? Not for you anyway." Selphie's hands immediately flew to her hips as she scanned the desktop littered with folders and miscellaneous loose sheets. "This is Squall's desk isn't it? It shouldn't be your problem if he fell behind."

An involuntarily bark of laughter burst from Quistis' lips which she immediately tried, and failed, to disguise as a cough. She met her colleagues eyes, silently demanding that she not read too much into both her reaction and what she was about to say. "Commander Leonhart is otherwise occupied. I..._volunteered_," try as she might, it was impossible not to sprinkle some spite into the word "to take over his pressing duties."

Selphie raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Occupied, eh?"

"That's what I said. Occupied. So I have to stay here. Sorry."

After flashing a professionally apathetic smile, Quistis returned focus toward her work, taking a second to blow her long golden bangs out of her eyes. A haircut needed to be added to her long list of things to do, though she had no idea when she'd find the time.

Today's office goals: Finish contracts. Edit Reports. Try not lose mind.

"Have fun in Deling," she mumbled weakly to Selphie's retreating form, trying and failing to sound enthusiastic for the sake of her friend. "Send me a postcard okay?"

Silently, she considered that it would be a appropriate tool with which to slit her own throat if needed.

"Yeah. I'll try. It just won't be fun without you though."

Quistis nodded, obviously not paying attention. Or at least trying her best to make it appear so. Selphie gave her one last look of sympathy before stepping onto the threshold where she was immediately forced into the wall by Xu plowing through. The veteran SeeD practically jettisoned herself into the office, which was an impressive feat considering the precariously balanced three foot stack of papers she held in one arm while pulling a cart full of unlabelled boxes with the other.

Barely escaping being flattened by the cart, Selphie twirled herself out of its destructive path, involuntarily turning to face Quistis once more. She noted, with a sharp twang of sympathy, that the woman's already cream-colored skin had whitened a couple of more shades upon the appearance of the Cid's favorite.

"Headmaster Kramer needs these contracts reviewed and signed before 1900 hours. And these wizard stones need to be refined to potions stat." she gestured vaguely to the cart, not bothering to take a moment to breathe. "The hospital stock is all out."

Quistis pulled her glasses down from her nose and stared, open mouthed, at the tasks set before her. For a second, she seemed to be on the brink of tears. But, being Qusitis, she recovered quickly and completely. "The contracts I can do, fine. But can't Cid find some entry level SeeD to refine the stones? He can't possibly expect me alone to…"

"All SeeDs are on leave until further notice." She explained, her words as hurried as her entrance. "The headmaster figured everyone needed a break."

This time Quistis almost really did cry. Only a little bit.

"I-I shall try," it was impossible to mask the sudden tightness in her throat. "But I already have a lot…"

"The Headmaster's counting on you. By 1900 hours okay? Good luck!"

And with that, she sped out of the room. Xu was probably equally as busy as she was with some other preposterously low-level task assigned to an otherwise over-qualified SeeD just because Cid decided to let the vast majority of his staff 'relax' simultaneously…And the only price he had to pay was the sanity of those few who opted to stay behind. Three people to administer an entire Garden.

Pressing her lips together to suppress any outward emotion, she urged herself not to think about it, knowing it would only fuel to already unstable fire of her rage.

So instead, she did whatever any good A-rank SeeD would do. She got to work.

"**Is he INSANE**?"

Except she had forgotten one miniscule yet deafeningly loud problem.

"I'm sorry Selphie. I can't talk. I have a lot on my plate right now."

"You can't possibly do all that stuff alone! What is he thinking?"

"He's thinking that I'm the only qualified person presently in Garden who can handle this. And I am handling it. I _will_ handle it. Besides, we're both under the same amount of pressure"

"Cid at least has Xu to help him out." Selphie countered, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the door that the veteran SeeD disappeared through with as much abhorrence as she could muster. "How is that fair? Where the heck is **your** helper, huh?"

Quistis chanced a glance at the smaller, empty desk positioned closer to the entrance for the purpose of greeting and directing guests of the Commander. The surface of which was littered with odd trinkets such as sea shells, a plastic jeweled pencil holder, fluffy frames displaying pictures of friends and of course, saliva-saturated dog toys. She cringed at the clutter.

"Rinoa is on leave too. Everyone is on leave. In fact, you're on leave."

"So?"

"So…" she gestured to the door with her eyes never leaving the paper "leave."

Selphie rolled her eyes and rebelliously planted her feet on the floor. "What about Squall? Isn't this _his_ office? Isn't this _his_ work load you're doing?"

"Yes." She acknowledged, trying her hardest to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "When he put in the vacation request, I was the only candidate with high enough security clearance to help out. He just conveniently forgot to mention that it landed on the time when Cid was planning a surprise holiday for everyone else on staff…"

"So you're doing both your co-Headmistress work _and_ the Commander's _without_ the help of secretaries or copy writers or the mail team or even cafeteria catering?"

"…Yes."

"Grrr! Doesn't that just…just…make you soooo angry! I'd be angry. I'd be _throw a terminal out a window _angry."

"I'm not exactly thrilled, but I'm coping. There's nothing that can be done so why complain? I signed myself into this."

"Like hell there's nothing you can do!" After that rather solid exclamation, the echoing footsteps of a pissed-off lithe woman stomping across the marble tiles gradually registered in Quistis' brain. Still, she didn't bother looking up to see what the brunette was doing. She was on too much of a roll with editing the latest contract.

And yet, if only for amusement purposes, she kept an ear open. She heard the familiar click of a satellite communicator being dialed from Rinoa's desk. Quistis allowed herself a small smile, appreciating the dear girl's selfless yet futile efforts to keep her from losing her mind.

"It won't work" she called over to her friend, hoping to spare her the effort, eyes still on the document. "He's out of range. If he even has his communicator on him at all."

"Out of range?" Selphie repeated incredulously, her ear still glued to the receiver. "Is he _crazy_? What if we needed him back?"

"He checks in every twelve hours." She explained while signing one piece of paper with a finalizing twirl to the 'e' in _Trepe_, placing it in the 'out' box. "He hasn't abandoned Garden. He just needed a break."

"A break that's out of range of our communication towers? How out of range is he?"

"Centra"

"_Centra?_ The desolate, empty continent Centra?"

"No, the new and improved luxury resort Centra."

"The _what_? Is that place new? How come he gets to try it out? Why can't I go?"

Quistis met her eyes from over her spectacles for a brief moment, her voice dry and monotone. "I was being sarcastic."

Selphie's shoulders slumped. "Oh…"

Silence enveloped the room, all except the scratching of Quistis' pen on paper and the quiet ringing from Selphie's end of the communicator. It took another two minutes of hopeless waiting before she sighed in defeat and hung up the receiver, slumping against the desk with an uncharacteristically deep frown on her lips. She looked over at her blonde friend and felt yet another overwhelming wave of pity. With Cid's new tasks in addition to the hefty workload she already had, Quistis seemed to be practically engulfed in menial labor.

No doubt about it, she needed help. But of course, pride would never allow her to admit to having limitations.

"Where's Rinoa then?" Selphie asked, smiling again with new hope as she snatched up the receiver. If she couldn't get Squall to suck it up and do his freakin' job, then she could at least try for his regular assistant. Rinoa wouldn't mind.

"She's in Centra."

Selphie slammed the phone down in frustration. "Why is everyone in Centra? Is there, like, some new tourist attraction that idiotically choose the worst location ever that I have yet to hear about?"

"Only Squall and Rinoa are there."

"Wh-Ahhh- Oh!" She pushed a finger to her lips to stop herself from speaking just as Quistis, once again, took a moment to glare at her in warning before continuing to write.

Though her visual message was a clear _don't go there_, Selphie's curiosity got the better of her and she feigned ignorance. "So…are they there…together ya think?"

Quistis' pen flew off the page, engraving a long scratch along the beautifully carved wood she so admired. This distraction lasted only a second before she was writing again; the only clue that something offset her was the increased speed of her hand scribbling notes. "That was never confirmed."

"Right…I'm just wondering. Because no one in their right minds would choose Centra as a vacation spot. Let alone two people. And Squall taking his vacation when he knew all the assistants will _also_ be off…that's oddly irresponsible of him."

"It is a strange coincidence." Her tone was an eerie sort of forced cheerful.

"Yes. Yes it is. A coincidence…"

Selphie stared at her friend, hoping to get some hint from her demeanor. But Quistis was careful to reveal nothing in her actions.

The rumor of a more-than-friends relationship between the Commander and his past-client had been circling Garden for over a year now, since the defeat of Ultimecia. And yet there was not one solid shred of evidence to say that they were in fact an item. Squall preferred to keep his private life not only private, but metaphorically stored deep below the surface of the earth, under numerous locks and keys, and guarded by the three-headed canine terror Cerberus. His romantic life, if there indeed was one, would be forever a mystery.

Once in an era there would be a small clue that Squall and Rinoa were a little bit more than casual acquaintances, such as when he promoted her to be his personal secretary (though severely under qualified) or this strange trip to Centra for example. But such facts hardly constituted an affair to remember.

Another question was too tempting to resist.

"Soo…" Selphie began, picking up one of the thousands of wizard stones from a box on Xu's cart and juggling it between her hands. "Does Rinoa check in? And if so, what time in comparison to Squall? And which section of Centra exactly did each of them say they would be? And what time exactly did each of them leave campus? And where-"

Quistis sighed and threw her pen down, leaning back while rubbing her temples in pure frustration. She couldn't deal with this game. Not tonight. "Squall checks in for Rinoa too. They're in Centra together, camping."

"**I KNEW IT!**"

"_But_!" she bothered to meet her friend's eyes then. "That fact does not at all imply that they have admitted to or indeed have a romantic relationship. And Squall will most definitely _kill_ you if he returns to Garden and finds out you told everyone. And he'll kill me if he finds out I told you of all people."

"Oh come on Quisty! You _have_ to let me rub this in his face. Maybe he'll let something slip!" Her eyes beamed with mischievous excitement but Quistis was set on her beliefs. Squall had trusted her. Mainly because he and Rinoa hadn't had a choice about revealing their destination and checking in, but she still found it flattering all the same.

"No." she answered firmly, hoping her curt answer left no room for debate. Selphie, however, was ruthless.

"Come on! Don't you want to know if there really is something going on between them? Not even _you_ can resist a good scandal I bet."

"What **our Commander**, I feel a need to stress that point, chooses to do with his personal affairs is none of our business."

"Affairs, eh?" she giggled. "Interesting choice of words."

Quistis rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She didn't know whether to blame the clichéd response on Squall rubbing off on her or that it was truly the only method of shutting the girl up.

"When's he due to check in again?"

The question, so bluntly asked, put Quistis off guard momentarily. She didn't even think of the reason why she may be asking before the words "1800 hours" came tumbling out of her mouth.

"That's only in five hours!" Selphie stated happily as she glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. "I can wait."

"Wait for what?"

"For him to check in of course. Then I'll answer the phone and, being passionate about protocol, he'll have to relay the message the he and _Rinoa_ are fine and then I can act all shocked and ask him questions and…"

"He'll just hang up on you."

"Which will prove him guilty!"

Quistis sighed and buried her face in her hands, cursing Squall more than ever for getting her into this mess. She could have been on a beach right now…instead of fighting for a grip on reality with a co-worker, not to mention frying her brains with this endless stream of formality dribble on paper.

"Selphie, you do notice how preposterous that idea is? Why would _you_ be answering the _Commander's_ phone?"

"Because his replacement', i.e. you, stepped out for a break because of work overload while I, your temporary assistant, was manning the office."

Quistis removed her face from her hands more quickly than her whip. "My…what?" Dare she even hope Selphie meant what she thought she meant?

The yellow clad girl only smiled before placing on the scratched desk a perfect potion, refined from the wizard stone she'd been juggling earlier. Quistis stared at it in disbelief; rolling her chair away from the desk as if afraid it, the inanimate object, may jump up and bite her.

"I'm pretty good with refining." She explained, while picking up a second stone. "I can get all these done for you in about five hours. And then I can file the remaining mission reports so that you can concentrate on the contracts for Cid."

"And…" this time Quistis really did begin to cry, her eyes automatically brimming with unshed tears "and all I have to do is…let you answer Squall's communicator call?"

Selphie nodded, still smiling, placing yet another fully refined potion next to the first on the Commander's desk.

"But what about the cabin? With Irvine?"

She shrugged indifferently. "So we'll head out tomorrow. Maybe, if we get enough stuff done tonight, you can come too!"

Quistis almost scoffed at the idea, knowing there would be a new, equally ridiculous pile of work for her to do in the morning. But something about this girl's unwavering cheerfulness made her bite down any stress-induced impulses to chastise. "I'd like that. I shall try," she said with a surprising amount of optimism, harshly blinking away any evidence of emotion.

Selphie's request was small. And she really did need the help. Not to mention Squall deserved to be lightly punished for tricking her into this job in the first place. As co-headmistress, one of the few people with authority over the Commander, she would have never allowed him to take off if she had had one inkling of the non- administrative staff vacation plans. He was playing a very precarious game with loopholes in the World Council's Angelica policy. She could only trust, only hope, that he knew what he was doing.

"It's a deal then!" Selphie bounced over to her side of the desk, shook the temporary Commander's hand and then bounced right back to the cart of stones to begin her tedious yet soon to be profitable task. Quistis meanwhile, returned to her work, spurred by the new confidence that she would not be disappointing Cid.

"Hey Quisty…" barely five minutes had passed before Selphie all too easily got bored with the dullness of her repetitive assignment "what exactly did Squall say to excuse he and Rinoa's being together?"

Quistis shrugged.

"He said they were excavating the ruins where we found Odin. A purely professional outing of course." She tried, and for the most part failed, at sounding sincere. And Selphie's laughing was not helping her keep a straight face. "Well I wouldn't be surprised. Centra, where I'm positive they are located according to their communication signal, isn't exactly the place for a romantic outing. Is it so hard to believe that maybe they really are doing what they reported?"

"Don't be so naïve Quistis!" Selphie chastised through her chuckles. "Picture this; a teenage guy and a girl who may or may not be in a relationship, head out alone to the most desolate area on the planet for two solid weeks, camping in what I assume is **one** tent for 'practicality'" she and Quistis shared giggles at that "and we're supposed to believe they're on an_ archeological dig_?"

While shaking her head, Selphie placed her eleventh refined potion onto the floor along with the others, chancing a glance at the wall clock in anticipation of Squall's call. "All alone. Just the two of them. No one around for miles. Hmm…I'm sure they're just practicing _combat_ positions" she added with a wink.

Quistis couldn't help but burst out laughing.


	2. Horizon

"_We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world, beyond the horizon."_

**- Franklin D. Roosevelt**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 2: …_ Horizon_…

She felt rather than saw him move behind her. His presence like that of a heart attack; causing her limbs to loosen and her chest to contract tightly, sensations that were un-ignorable even had she not known exactly the cause.

He was watching her. He did that sometimes when he thought she wouldn't notice, but she could always feel his eyes stabbing at her very core. Everything about him was all at once frightening, fascinating and hideously, inexplicably alluring.

As she could tell he was watching her, he knew she knew he was and smirked as she straightened herself up, trying her best to feign obliviousness to his entrance.

He almost laughed, but remained noiseless. Instead opting to wait until she admitted him, she knowing that he knew that she knew that he was right there, impatient to begin what had been so long put off.

Eventually, not even ten seconds under his chilling scrutiny, her shoulders slumped in defeat and a soft sigh escaped her lips. There was no more avoiding it. The corner of his mouth twitched with the hint of a grin as he took a step closer, knowing now that there was no point in keeping silent. The rough, dry earth crackled beneath his steel-toed combat boots as he approached and she visibly stiffened at the sound.

It was time.

"Are you scared?" He asked quietly, two steps from entering what he deemed to be her 'personal space'; an area he dare not penetrate.

She let out an unsteady breath. "A little" she admitted. "I don't really know what I'm doing."

He scoffed with a hint of almost sarcastic amusement; a sound which she had discovered to be his way of innocently chuckling under the guise of cruel ridicule.

In response she cocked an eyebrow and ever so subtly titled her head in his direction over her shoulder, feigning offence. "Dare I ask what it is you find so humorous Mr. Leonhart?"

"You." His responses were always curt and to the point - even when kidding.

He was sensitive yet callous. Both sincere and cynical. He could both hold you in the tightest embrace and roughly push you away at the same time. He was the epitome of an oxymoron.

Especially the _moron_ part at certain times.

She frowned, still keeping her back to him. "Ha. Ha." She laughed sardonically while tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. "You promised to make this as painless as possible for me. I bet you were nervous too your first time."

"No, actually. I wasn't." He took a step closer and instantly she felt warmer, if only because he now shielded the wind from her bare shoulders.

"If you're trying to suppress my fears by pretending its simple, there's no point. It won't work to ease me into this. I'm not that brave."

"It has nothing to do with bravery." He explained, taking the final footstep to appear by her side, both of them keeping their eyes glued ahead on the eternal horizon.

She waited for him to expand. He complied. "It has to do with confidence, and emotions believe it or not. You simply have to charge and push your fears to the back of your mind temporarily. And then, by the time it's too late to turn back, hopefully, you'll no longer have to tame your initial horror. For it will be gone, replaced by adrenaline and, eventually, euphoria." He chanced a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She stood tall, the wind whipping her hair around her face to her obliviousness as she stared straight ahead, determined and soldier-like. Ready for the plunge into the unknown. And yet still, he could see the pure fear in her eyes. It tore through his determination like a hot knife through butter, slowly melting away his numerous rough edges. And, if only for a moment, he fell victim to sympathy.

"Rinoa…" He turned to scrutinize her properly, trying to gauge her state of mind by her posture. Though appearing unyielding, only he could notice the slight, almost invisible tremors coursing through her loose fingers. He sighed.

"You don't have to do this" he offered, suppressing the urge to reach out and place a consoling hand on her shoulder. Such a gesture would be inappropriate. Especially considering his intentions would be half to pacify her, half just to feel the silk-like texture of her skin beneath his fingers.

She remained silent, as if trying to read his thoughts, forcing him to become increasingly uncomfortable with every passing second. Quiet was one adjective that never fit along-side Rinoa Heartilly. And his head was the one place he still would not let anyone venture. He had to speak, if only to fill the void and occupy her concentration. "We can…wait…if you want?"

"No." was her immediate response. He hadn't expected any other to tell the truth. The offer had just been a formality. They had been planning this for too long for her to back out now. And there would be no second chances once they returned to Garden, under the diligent watch of students, faculty and friends alike.

No second chances. No turning back. It all meant 'now or never'. Rinoa understood that. Squall understood that. _Now or never…_

The wind picked up as if to imply that the moment was upon them. Rinoa let her arms fall to her sides and leaned her head back, taking in a deep breath to both suppress her fears, as Squall had suggested, and to bask in the glory of nature and solitude.

They were alone. There was nothing to be afraid of. He was there to catch her should she fall. _He_ was there…and that was all the safety net she would ever need.

"You ready then?" Squall asked once her eyes had opened.

She nodded, biting her lip in nervous anticipation.

"Let's do it."

He smiled then. Something he did rarely, and only for Rinoa when she did something to amuse him. Lately, that had been happening more and more often. And tonight, it was nearly guaranteed.

"Yes. Let's begin."

He gestured to the deteriorated building behind, leading her away from the flower fields and into the more private haven of the orphanage he had once called home. He followed her over the threshold and closed the door behind them, trying with all his might not to let his enthusiasm show though his expression.

Maybe it was her mystery that drew him towards her. Maybe it was her rebellious need to always pursue the greatest challenge, against all logic. Sometimes she was so arrogant, immature and rambunctious that he honestly believed his sentiments were based purely and shallowly on her good looks and radiant femininity alone…maybe.

So many maybes…

If anything, the reason for their closeness was the greatest of mysteries. One that may or may not ever be solved. Like a rubex cube – an odd but entirely appropriate comparison. Sure, it took a lot of frustration, cursing and force to get them to fit the pattern, and many would have tossed it aside and deemed it impossible long ago. But when they finally did match, when every side gleamed with uniform color and your heart almost burst in pride and pleasure…it was atrociously satisfying.

He locked the door with a final, echoing click.

She was waiting for him.

* * *

The communicator rang sixty-seven minutes ahead of schedule.

Selphie and Quistis nearly jumped out of their skin at the brash noise that suddenly filled the room, piercing what had once been solid silence in the empty Commander's office for the past several hours.

The two women, both clutching their chests to hold onto their rapidly beating hearts, exchanged eyebrow-raised glances. Squall was a stickler for schedules and time constraints. There was always the possibility that someone else was trying to contact the Commander, but the majority of them would have had access to a normal telephone instead of using the complicated, wireless radio system. It was indeed a mystery.

The communicator continued to ring, each note seemingly louder than the last, and still the two SeeDs did not move, but stared at it in trepidation.

"Should I answer it?" Quistis asked, her hand hovering above the receiver. But Selphie quickly slapped her palm away.

"No! You promised _I_ could be the one to talk to Squall. And I did not sit here refining over _two hundred_ wizard stones just so that he could evade my interrogation yet again!"

"But what if it's not him?" Though some one else with access to Garden's system calling at this hour by this specific method was extremely unlikely, so was the idea of Squall losing track of the time. "What if it's just Cid testing me and the system to see if I'm picking up any emergency signals? I have to be the one to answer."

"Did you not see that pile of work Xu had for you? Cid's probably submerged in the same amount up to his ears! He doesn't have time for stupid things like checking up on the emergency radio frequencies and if they're being responded to."

"Selphie, the man married a sorceress, went from orphanage running to mercenary training, choose a 17-year-old to lead a war, and sent all his staff simultaneously on vacation."

Selphie's hand remained suspended above the communicator, looking confused. "What's your point?"

"My point is; he's nuts. And this is exactly the type of pointless check-up he'd put on the top of the list." Confident with her rationalization, Quistis leaned over the desk and quickly snatched up the receiver which had now been ringing incessantly for a good two minutes as they argued.

The brunette, however, had been less than satisfied. And as her superior opened her mouth to greet the caller, she lunged.

"Selphie! What the hell are you…?"

"**Give me that**!" Selphie was splayed on her stomach across the commander's desk, stretching her arms out towards where Qusitis was seated in her high back leather chair and pulling on the extendable cord of the receiver with all her might.

"You're going to break it!" The blonde garbled through clenched teeth as she tried to both save the cord from being ripped out of the machine, salvage the hours of work Selphie was splayed over and admit the caller.

"H-hello? Balam- _get the hell off of me!_ Balamb Garden Commander's Office. How may I- _seriously Seph, move!- _help you?"

In one firm shove, Selphie was sent reeling to the floor, legs up in the air, the stun of her landing leaving her temporarily out of breath. At least long enough for the substitute Commander to get a response…

"_Quistis? It's me."_

The voice was soft even over the harsh, crackling static of the weak connection. But the distinct tone of vulnerability was obvious.

"H-hello." She stuttered, still a little breathless from the struggle. "You're early."

"_Yeah." _ The caller paused, seemingly unsure. Their deep breathing sounded rushed, perhaps due to the lousy audio quality. _"Something's happened. We need to be picked up as soon as possible."_

Quistis' heart dropped into her stomach. "What is it? What happened? Where are- **Hey**!" she had been in such a state of panic over the identity of the caller and their obviously bad news that she let her guard down, only for a second, but that was more than enough for her assistant to get back on her feet and nab the receiver.

"**Aha**!"

"Give it back!" She grabbed at the piece but Selphie was too nimble for her, instantly somersaulting to a safe position out of reach so that Quistis fist came up with nothing but air.

"Hello. Squall? What's up? How are ya? Having fun? And if so, with whom?"

"_Selphie?"_

The petite girl blinked in confusion. It took her a moment but eventually the voice registered, attaching it to a familiar face. "Rinoa?"

"_Yes."_

Selphie checked the clock for the millionth time. "You're early."

"_I know. I'm sorry. But we've had a bit of an emergency over here." _She sounded rushed, fighting to keep her resolve and even a tad panicked. Instantly, Selphie's visions of confessions flew out of her head to be replaced with mind-numbing concern for her friends.

"What is it? Are you two all right? We usually don't negotiate with terrorists but if it's for your safety then I'm sure Cid will-"

"_Calm down! It's nothing like that." _If she hadn't been so scared, she may have laughed. But Rinoa had more important things to worry about. _"There was an accident. Squall's hurt."_

The small girl's eyes immediately filled with terrified tears. "Squall's hurt!"

"**What**?" This time, Quistis retaliated by using Selphie's shock to snatch the receiver from her, desperately clamping it to the side of her head so that no form of crafty thievery could detach it.

"What happened?" she asked instantly, no longer in neither a playful nor an angry mood. Just concerned. Frightened actually. Nothing short of a major injury beyond the help of advanced healing spells would have prompted Rinoa to call and cut their vacation short. She couldn't stop the several gruesome scenarios of violent deaths that attacked her brain and before she knew it, she was adding the preparation of the Commander's funeral accommodations to her long list of things to do.

_ 'Daisies…he was a simple man. He would have liked daisies. And cremation. None of this being eaten by worms in the ground stuff. And-'_

_ "He's far from dead Quistis. Stop worrying so much."_ Rinoa's teasing giggles pulled her from her thoughts and spurred an instant blush of embarrassment to rise in her cheeks.

Quistis forgot sometimes that Rinoa, her sorceress' powers growing by the day, had recently acquired the skill of telepathy. And though she felt a tad violated by the blunt invasion of privacy, she knew that her friend had only ventured in to see and thus be able to abolish her _true_ fears.

The news of this new ability had alarmed many of them at first, but Rinoa had been determined to prove that she was no more a threat now than she was when she first arrived at Garden; a whiny teenager pushing a lost cause and, besides her verbal backlash, was otherwise relatively harmless. As proof of her courage and dedication to Garden, instead of keeping the powerful skill a secret, she had scheduled an emergency meeting with all the elite SeeD administration in order to confess and warn her friends. She also promised that just because she _could _read their minds, didn't mean she would. And since then actually, now was the first time Quistis ever really felt like she was being interfered with. It was a soft tingling sensation in her frontal lobe that most people, except those who knew better, would brush off as the beginnings of a headache. It was…soothing, in a way. And despite her suspicions, Quistis felt herself relax as the sorceress' influence targeted her apprehension and forced it to dissolve and disperse.

'_You promised never to do that Rinoa'_ she thought, knowing that whatever went through her head now was entirely audible to her colleague.

It was meant to poke fun - but as Quistis' mind was open to Rinoa, Rinoa's was open to her, and she felt the girl internally tense up.

"_I know. I'm sorry. I just don't want you to worry."_

She broke the connection. The tingling stopped and her initial fear rushed in to replace the lost consciousness, making Quistis actually miss the blissfully numbing sensation of mind intrusion.

Silence filled them…or at least filled their conversation. On Garden's end, Selphie was screaming obscenities in the background and miles away, the strong coastal winds were singing.

The two women simultaneously cleared their throats, feeling inexplicably awkward about what had just transpired within the confines of their conscious. Quistis, being the most logical, quickly buried the tension, deeming it imperative to move on as quickly as possible.

"I'll send the Ragnarok for you right away. You guys are…" she checked the communicator's display, noting the longitude and latitude readings and applying them to the world map that was the background display for Squall's computer screen. Her finger fell upon their position, and she frowned. "You're on the coast? I thought you two were going to excavate the Centra Tower?"

"I knew it!" Selphie muttered in a harsh whisper, having dropped her ranting while listening to the conversation. Maybe she would get the confession she wanted without having to say a word to the couple themselves. Quistis, after all, was a tad more tactful than she could ever be. She tiptoed closer, her ear leaned towards the receiver till she was almost cheek-to-cheek with her former instructor, listening intently.

On the other end, Rinoa coughed uneasily._ "Well…uh, we were…there. But, after two days, we did as much as possible. So…we decided to visit the flower fields at the orphanage. Since we were in the area…"_

Selphie threw her hands over her mouth to quell her wicked sniggering at the revelation of their true location. After the effects of time compression had been dropped, everyone ended up in various places around the world that they had once had a personal connection too. Zell woke up in his mom's kitchen in Balamb. Selphie herself had been found in the ruins of Trabia Garden, her old home. And Squall and Rinoa, bizarrely, had ended up in that very same flower field. Though neither of the couple would admit it, the flower field was dubbed by all others as their 'secret' place. A very romantic vacation spot indeed. The evidence stacked against them was becoming more and more convicting.

Quistis nodded, giving Selphie the benefit of a slight grin before returning her attention to the caller. "Okay. Edea's orphanage it is." She jotted down the coordinates on a spare piece of paper and handed it to Selphie. "And you will have to tell me the extent of his injuries. Just so I know what level medical staff I have to rouse from their vacation to tend to him, not to mention what supplies I'll have to scrounge up."

If it was possible the audibly blush, Rinoa would have pulled it off. Her awkward fidgeting and throat clearing made her humiliation all too obvious.

"Rinoa…?"

She coughed as a stalling method and waited a few beats before responding.

"_About that…" _The sound of her shuffling filled the hearing piece, obviously moving to some place more private, perhaps out of her patient's earshot. _"I request that you send a _male_ member of the medical staff."_

Quistis raised a finely plucked eyebrow. "That may be impossible, depending on the extent of his injuries. The majority of the A-rank med SeeDs are female."

"_We don't need an A-rank. I told you it was nothing major…just something neither of us can do on our own."_

This statement confused and worried her beyond anything mentioned before. 'Nothing serious' contradicted their need for any help, for Rinoa's healing was more than advanced enough. The need for a member of the medical staff below rank A also seemed pointless. And the request for male SeeD was even more puzzling…it all just begged the question; "Tell me exactly what happened Rinoa?"

Again there was silence, followed by a moment or two of inner turmoil and silent debate. Then, finally, a groan of defeat.

"_I shot him." _

Quistis dropped the receiver, fumbled to catch it and then brought it back to her ear with both hands clenched so tightly around it that Selphie feared the plastic was about to snap. "You **what**?"

"_It's not what you think!" _she interjected quickly. _"We were training…things got a little out of hand."_

"You were training? With **guns**?" _'Squall, you idiot.'_

Rinoa sighed. Of course everyone who knew her would immediately recoil in horror at the idea of such a natural born klutz with an automatic weapon in their hands. Apparently their fears were now more than justified. _"It was an accident. I can heal flesh wounds in an instant but I don't want to try before the bullet gets removed. And not only is neither of us qualified for field surgery, its lodged rather…high on his leg."_

"High on his leg?"

"_Very high…hence the male medical personnel request."_

"Ohh…"

Squall never liked anyone touching him unless strictly necessary. And in rare circumstances such as these, of course he wouldn't want it to be someone who would inevitably burst into fits of flirtatious giggles during the entire procedure. Even Dr. Kadowaki, the chief surgeon, was prone to poking fun. They just couldn't help it when tending to such a young, attractive and easily embarrassed patient. Not to anyone's surprise, Squall had grown to loathe Garden's mandatory bi-monthly checkups, and avoided attendance whenever possible.

Quistis ran a hand through her hair and down her face, trying her best to retain the spitting insults that were on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she factored her words to only what Rinoa needed to hear, and kept the rest securely bottled up for when they arrived back at Garden. A Commander scolding was definitely in order.

"I'll call on Kayle. He's the only one I know of that stayed in Garden during his time off. He and Selphie will be there within the hour."

"Hey! Why do I have to…"

Quistis covered the speaker of the communicator and fixed her assistant with an angry glare. "Cause not only are you the only one presently in Garden who can pilot the fastest airship we've got but as a bonus, and not to mention punishment for Squall, you can question him as much as you want on the ride back. Deal?"

Selphie took a few seconds to consider, if only to prove to Quistis that she wasn't easily ordered or bribed into anything, and then she was nodding her head in hearty agreement. "Fine!"

"Good." She removed her censoring palm from the receiver. "Hold on you two. We'll be there soon."

Rinoa let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Perhaps in the back of her mind she had honestly expected to be left stranded. _"Thank you Quistis. Thank you so much."_

"No problem. See you soon." And with that, she disconnected.

No sooner had the receiver been placed gently back on the cradle that the flood she had been holding back through the entire conversation burst at the seams, releasing a chaotic downpour of annoyance, confusion and genuine anger.

"What the hell was he thinking? Giving her a _gun_? He may as well have shot himself and gotten it over with!"

"I can't believe it…"

"Of course you can't! Neither can I! The complete and utter incompetence of that man when it comes to Rinoa is astounding. Why not just saunter into the training center with nothing but toothpick to replace his gunblade, huh? That suicidal, inept, idiotic-"

"I can't believe they _really_ were just practicing combat maneuvers." Regardless of the circumstances, Selphie could always find a way to ignore the most pressing issue at hand in exchange for a meager one. It was a quality that everybody both loved and hated about her.

They had spoken to Rinoa, and all they had received information-wise was confirmation that they had indeed been 'working' in a sense. The news of Squall's injury was more disappointing than upsetting.

Yet again, she had been left high and dry with no new information on their potential affair. But being the optimist that she was, Selphie still had lots of hope left that this airship ride together, locked in a small room, would shed some light on the situation.

"Well then, I guess I'm off! Call Kylie or whoever and ask him to meet me on the landing pad. I gotta warm up the engines before we take off."

Quistis took off her spectacles and rubbed aggressively at the skin between her eyes. "It's Kayle. Yes. Go. I'll get him."

"Super!" she took off in a sprint, slamming the door behind her and leaving the blonde SeeD to her many revolving, antagonist thoughts.

'_That idiot…'_

The real reason for this vacation with Rinoa was all too obvious now, and neither she nor Cid would be very happy with him upon his return. One thing they had agreed upon when letting Rinoa join Garden's forces was that she was to depend on her powers alone for protection and general battling. That way they could keep tabs on her abilities and their evolution without having to depend on trusting her alone. It was a safety net. Friend or not, Rinoa's history made her a liability and despite the naturally weak klutz that the girl Rinoa was, her inheritance made her a fast learner and a ludicrously strong warrior. And now Squall was taking her away, under the guise of a much needed 'vacation', and training her in the arts of manual weaponry. Deliberately ignoring the strictly outlined regulations of the World Consul's Angelica Policy.

For the hundredth time, Quistis wished she knew exactly what was going through Squall's head when he arranged this. But she'd burn that bridge when she came to it. For now she had to focus on getting him back on his feet and healthy so that he could properly feel the full extent of her wrath without holding back due to sympathy for the injured.

She dialed Kayle's number on the standard intercom phone and waited impatiently as it rang, her fingers tapping restlessly on the desk, increasing in speed with every resonating tone.

"_Jenkins here."_

"Kayle Jenkins. Its Headmistress Trepe speaking. I have a mission for you."

The young man's voice paused, seemingly skeptical. _"Headmistress Trepe? It's kinda late…isn't it? And I…"_

"I know you think you're on vacation young man but here at Garden such pleasantries are merely suggested gifts, easily retracted should there be the need. The battle doesn't pause just because the general needs a bathroom break."

"_What battle?"_

'_Bad analogy.'_ "Never mind. Report to the bridge immediately. You will be compensated for volunteering your time."

"_Volunteering? I didn't-"_

"Kayle…you like it here at Garden don't you?"

Though worded as a pleasant, innocent question, the young cadet immediately picked up on the threatening message veiled in her tone.

Yes, he did like it at Garden. It was the only home he'd ever known. And, if he wanted to remain there, he had to prove his dedication by not pissing off his superiors.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and put on his soldier face. _"I'm on my way."_

"Bring your medical field kit."

This mission was getting more obscure by the second. He was only a student after all, a low rank one of that, less than qualified for _real_ surgical procedures. But he knew better than to question orders. _"Yes'm."_

"And one more thing Kayle."

"_Yes Headmistress?"_

Quistis replaced her spectacles on the bridge of her nose and stared confidently at the world map on the computer screen, her eyes glued to the coastal spot on Centra where Squall and Rinoa had been secretly training behind Garden's back. He had hurt her by this betrayal, if only because he hadn't bothered to confer with her and ask for advice first off. It was a tad immature, but he needed to know that she - that **Garden **- was less than amused with his actions.

"Remove your storage of morphine and any other narcotic type drug from your kit…Understand?"

"_Umm. If you insist but-"_ she hung up before he had the chance to finish his reply. It was better that she didn't explain her motives. After all, a young cadet such as he could never properly understand the complexities of military/educative vengeance.

'_I am your teacher before your friend Squall…' _she reminded herself as she returned to the comfort of the high-back leather chair and began sorting papers '_and you need to be taught a lesson.'_


	3. Intimacy

"_But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, _

_In which each feels that the other is feeling something, _

_Having once existed, _

_Its effect is not to be done away with." _

**--George Eliot**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 3: …_Intimacy_ …

'_Rinoa…'_

'_Where are you…?'_

'_It hurts. Please…please help me.'_

'_Save me'_

'…_from myself.'_

* * *

It was a day just like any other day. 

The Commander had risen at five a.m. sharp, gone through his rigorous routine of morning exercises, showered, and dressed all before doing an effortless jolting round in the training center with a T-rex, taking care to keep his uniform from wrinkling or accumulating too much sweat. A quick trip to the cafeteria to nab a bran muffin and coffee and Squall was at his desk scribbling on the first of a hundred reports moments before the sun touched the horizon. Perfect, as usual.

And Rinoa, his elusive assistant?

Late, as usual.

The Commander's office wasn't graced with her presence until quarter after seven that day, unusually tardy even by her loose standards. And within seconds of her arrival, to his dismay, he knew the exact reason why.

"So? What do you think?" Rinoa had asked with an almost childish giggle, stepping into the office and doing a small pirouette on the marble in order to show off every angle. "Professional enough for you my dear Commander?"

Squall could feel his eye begin to twitch, but rightly refrained from any other outward reaction. She was at it again.

Rinoa's wardrobe of denim and spandex had been the subject of much debate in the weeks preceding her employment along side 'the face of Garden'. She was, after all, the first thing clients saw when coming to discuss potential contracts. She had to appear 'serious', 'sever', 'sophisticated'…and several other boring 's' adjectives Cid had used when describing the dress code.

Initially, she had been forced to settle with wearing some of Edea's conservative black frocks, for lack of any other option, and had somehow found a way to weasel in a daily complaint for the past several months. Today, however, it seemed someone (who Squall later intended to punish. Probably Selphie) had brought the exuberant girl shopping. She had had no choice but to comply with SeeD standards, but that didn't mean she couldn't be creative as well. If anything, Rinoa Heartily was an expert at bending the rules to the very brink of breaking.

She wore a dove grey matching vest and horrifyingly short skirt combo over a crisp white blouse, including a silk sky-blue tie to add a little flare to the otherwise drab outfit. With matching bright blue high heels, dramatic makeup applied with rose red lips, her dark hair tied up with criss-crossing pencils and a fake pair of spectacles balancing on her nose, Rinoa looked the perfect part of the typical business man's young, well figured secretary.

It was supposed to be a joke.

Like hell she would ever put this much effort into dressing ever again and the shoes were already killing her feet, but it would have been worth it to see him crack a smirk and shake his head in exasperated amusement– as he sometimes did when she did something so outrageously comical such as this.

But, as it turned out, he was not amused by the costume. He was…something else entirely.

He glanced up from his paper work, scanning her from head to toe, taking her in from the led tip poking out of her hair to her aching toes encased in leather. His look didn't even take a full five seconds, but to her it seemed to last an eternity and forced an involuntary shudder to course through her.

"Good." He said at last, returning instantly to his task of scribbling notes. "You're late by the way. There's a memo I need summarized immediately, on your desk." Reluctantly, Rinoa's gaze followed his outstretched finger towards her work station, already littered with various post-its, contracts bombarding the 'in' box two feet high waiting to be filed and the fax machine persistently spewing requests for SeeDs.

"Oh-O-okay. Sorry." She hesitantly sat down in her plush leather chair, all the while never taking her eyes off him.

He seemed completely unmoved. She stared unabashedly every chance she came across for the entire first half hour of her shift, but he never gave her the pleasure of even a sidelong glance. He didn't even comment on her lack of action when the fax machine jammed and its wailing siren of distress filled the vast office for a solid quarter hour until she remembered it was her job to sort it out.

Strange indeed…

"So," she began as a weak means of inspiring conversation while playing a futile game of tug-o-war with the fax machine. "You excited about our trip next month? I bet you haven't had a vacation in Hyne knows how long. Never probably."

"It's not a vacation Rinoa" he reminded her for what seemed to be the thousandth time, never taking his eyes off his reading. "It's a job. It was only a matter of time before someone had to properly examine the Centra Tower anyway."

"Right. A job. An important enough job for the Commander **and** his assistant." Her fingers rolled over the spine of the papers in her hands, letting the breeze it created flutter through her bangs. The action was meant to give Squall a chance to clarify, but he was either ignoring her or oblivious. "And you just don't trust anyone else to do it or what?"

"Odin is a very delicate G.F. I don't want to risk a SeeD who hasn't had any experience handling an unstable power such as his."

"Yeah, but for two solid weeks? You can't tell me that we won't have time to relax a little while we're out there. And we're right next to a beach!"

"We're right next to a beach here" he grumbled a tad condescendingly.

"Yeah but this is a _new_ beach" she countered with a smile, scrunching down in her chair in an attempt to catch his lowered eyes. No such luck. He would not be having a sense of humor today. In fact, she couldn't help but sense that he was being a little too evasive, a smidgen more that his usual grumpy self. This, of course, only inspired her to delve further.

"Seriously though," she strolled, with difficulty in the shoes, towards his desk. The sound of her movement forced his eyes to flicker upwards, if only long enough to decipher her intentions and know to move his meticulously organized report off his desk before she sat on it. She smiled before carefully hopping onto the mahogany surface, almost forgetting that she didn't have the familiar dexterity in this skirt as with her former outfits. "What's the harm in planning a little side expedition? Just in case we do all that we possibly can at the Tower within a few days?"

"That's not very likely." He picked up his crisp copy of the daily delivered world newspaper, shuffling through the pages with what she supposed was meant to look like purpose, conveniently hiding his facial expression. Rinoa wasn't even close to being discouraged.

"So you're saying that we're gonna spend a whole two weeks rummaging through a two story, no room tower, excavating and reviewing an area that hasn't been touched, except by us, for over three-hundred years?"

"Someone has to do it."

"You'd think the Commander would have a more pressing schedule. In fact, as his assistant, I can confirm that he has nearly every second of every day booked. How does a man like that find time for such endeavors?"

"He plans ahead."

"Heh. You don't say."

"…"

He was preparing something, and she needed to know what. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned further across his desk, desperately trying to make eye contact as he not-so-discreetly rolled his chair backward with every inch closer she came. This charade continued until his movements were hindered by the glass wall and Rinoa was lying horizontally across his work on the desk, still staring.

With a sigh of annoyance, Squall allowed his newspaper to go limp, falling forward to reveal an eyebrow raised glare. "You do realize that you're currently splayed on top of a semi-processed peace treaty?"

She shook her head incredulously, giving him a _that's not gonna work on me_ smirk. "Nu-uh. You're not gonna bluff your way out of this Leonhart. I've got all the aces in this round. You're not making sense, and you always make sense. So spill, show me your cards." Her maddening smile widened and Squall couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"You're overestimating my intentions, as usual. And aces or no" he reached forward and gently pried a stapled packet of sheets from under her palm, salvaging it from further damage. "This needs to be sent to Esthar by nine for a finalizing signature from the President." He did his best to smooth out the few wrinkles her weight had caused, tilting the cover page so that its title was visible and smirking when he saw her expression immediately sober with guilt.

"Oh. _That_ Peace Treaty. Oops" she pushed herself up, sheepishly smoothing out the casualties of her intrusion as she rose. "Looks like you had a Royal Flush after all, huh?"

"No more poker puns Heartilly" he insisted with a tone of exasperation, trying to reorganize his desk from the chaos of her presence.

Rinoa frowned, hopping off the desk while taking careful precautious to keep her skirt straight on her thighs. She watched him work for a few seconds, immediately filling the small space she had occupied with a new pile of paperwork until no sign of interference remained. Still, she didn't return to her desk. She waited for him to voice the details of their trip that they both knew she wanted. Squall, however, was obviously in no mood to indulge.

Rinoa pursed her lips together, continuously staring until she sparked some kind of reaction, if only one of annoyance.

There was no way the anally efficient Commander Leonhart would dare waste more time than necessary at the Centra Tower. And two weeks was most definitely overkill. While most girls would have beamed at the idea of a clandestine rendezvous with Squall, Rinoa now knew him well enough to feel genuine apprehension. There could only be two plausible reasons for his being cryptic; either he was under strict Garden oath not to divulge information, or he sincerely didn't want to deal with her kicking and screaming when he dragged her to the most horrid place on earth.

With her luck, it was most likely the latter. So much for the beach.

"Well then," she began while smoothing down the front of her blouse, feigning a dignified defeat. "If you insist on being an _Old Maid _then I can do nothing but _Go Fish Twenty-One Hearts_ down a river of _Spit_." She shrugged and exhaled noisily, adopting an air of indifference and baiting him with her absurdity. "So, while we're _pinochle_-ing, what's your opinion on _War_? Too easy, or just too long?"

"Rinoa…" he warned with that deep tone of authority she had grown to find so amusing.

"You said no **poker** puns."

"No card game puns. No puns of any kind. No words at all would be ideal."

"Not even _Bullshit_?"

At this he drew the line, throwing his pen down rather violently. "You know, if you're finding that I'm not giving you enough work to do then I'm sure Nida will be needing some assistance with that greasy engine in the…"

"Fine fine. I'm gone." He gave her one last triumphant smirk in response to her frown before returning his attention to the newspaper, shaking it so that the top portion covered his face once more. As she knew his weaknesses, he knew hers. Not only did Rinoa have a girlish fear of the dark, basement underbelly of Garden, but the pilot Nida had also since made it his mission to get her on a dinner date. Though his enthusiasm was flattering, his persistence was not. And after over one hundred rejections, varying from polite to painfully blunt, Rinoa had deemed it simpler for both of them if they just never crossed paths. She worked hard to guarantee that simplicity.

"By the way," she called over her shoulder on the way to her desk. "_Bullshit_ is indeed a card game."

"Whatever."

She plopped herself back into her leather chair, did a few minutes of relaxation exercises to quell any remaining urge for rebuttal, and then got to work. Any other day of the week she would have smacked him for using that forbidden word yet _again_, but today she wouldn't have put it passed him to lock her in a closet with Nida out of spite. That was one priceless talent she had acquired through having Mr. Sunshine as a boss; how to translate the moods of superiors into a gauge of what you could get away with.

She hated how impossible it was to get answers in this profession. Close to a year now she had worked for him. Close to two years since they had met. And still, she was no closer at getting inside his head than she had been during their first dance at his Graduation.

Seriously, one would have to be a mind reader in order to figure out the slightest little…

Rinoa paused her train of thought, suddenly tense. She scrutinized her surroundings, making sure that Squall remained oblivious to her new expression. Not surprisingly, he was.

'_A mind reader… Telepathy.'_

'_Someone who can convert brainwaves into audible messages.'_

'_Someone like me…'_

She had promised not to. Everybody had been given a lesson on how to catch her anyways. And in the case of Squall, with the thickest skull of anyone, all she could hope for was a couple of muddled thought fragments before he would force her out, a process which could be very painful to both parties.

So many reasons not to. But an even greater reason for.

Persuasion was strong in this case. The fantasy of having all of Squall's inner most thoughts open to her, if only for a millisecond, was way more tempting than world domination would ever be. Besides, she was a sorceress, not a saint.

She had tried it then. Slowly, cautiously, knowing very well that she was doing the exact thing she had assured her friends she would not do without their permission. But curiosity was killing her. Squall was being quiet…too quiet. And too quiet for Squall was very quiet indeed.

Doing her best to appear busy while pushing various contracts into the files of their patrons sorted alphabetically by last name, Rinoa felt around for him…consciously of course. She found her target with her back still towards him and surrounded his mind, encased in a fragile bubble sort of force field. She listened as he continued to casually flip through the pages of whatever memo he was reading, apparently blissfully ignorant of any attempts to impose.

Now or never…

As gently as she could manage, with a tenderness she reserved only for the most delicate of tasks, Rinoa lightly prodded Squall Leonhart's mind.

…

"**ARRRRRG**!!" he immediately fell backward off his chair, hands clamped against his temples as if in excruciating pain.

'_Son of a bit- -!'_ was all she ever got out of his head. The assistant lost all color in her face.

"I'm sorry!" Rinoa jumped over her desk in attempt to reach him faster, tearing a slit in her meticulously chosen skirt and losing a shoe in the process. By the time she arrived at his side, the Commander was already on his feet, wincing as he rubbed furiously at the scar between his eyes. Obviously fighting off the urge to scream obscenities.

"Squall I am sooo sorry. I was just…I was trying to…"

"I know what you were trying Rinoa." He barked, fixing her at last with those deadly steel blue eyes of his. Eyes that had once, only once, looked at her with longing, were now flashing with anger.

In response, she felt her own brown hued irises begin to blur. She was ashamed of course, and embarrassed. But none of this would have happened…she wouldn't have to resort to such baser methods if he would just…if he could just tell her…if he would just say anything once in a while…

His harsh stare immediately softened, if only a little, upon noting her genuine regret. But she had promised. His head was his head alone.

"Rinoa…" he had whispered softly, daring to reach out and touch her shoulder. He didn't like touching her and avoided it at all times if possible. But he deemed it, at least in these extreme circumstances, to be necessary. Her downcast stare of shame immediately lifted to meet his, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears of innocence.

Well, not _that_ innocent.

Though perfectly aware of how pathetic he was to let her actions slide so easily, Squall knew he had little choice but to forgive her, as he had on numerous occasions in the past. It was the only way their slipshod excuse for a professional relationship survived. "Just don't do it again, ok?"

She nodded all too quickly. "I promise! I-I swear it, never again."

It took all his self restraint not to scoff or worse, roll his eyes. That would render those countless hours of sensitivity training useless. Still, he knew that this would definitely **not** be the last time she tried. For her, it would just be too tempting. Like putting a kitten in front of a toddler an insisting that they not pet it. Useless.

All he could hope for was that this little episode would at least keep her from trying for another few weeks.

"Go to lunch Rinoa." He had said, still managing to keep an annoyed lilt to his tone so that she didn't all too suddenly forget her new promise. After a long slow breath of relief, his assistant gratefully took the excuse to leave the suddenly claustrophobic office space.

* * *

Rinoa hung up the communicator with a breathy sigh of relief after earning the cherished confirmation of a rescue from Quisitis. She placed the receiver back in the cradle as gently as if it were an explosive detonated by the slightest tremor. 

She slumped back onto her knees, taking a moment to wipe away the sweat that had gathered on her brow despite the cool weather.

So much for secrecy. So much for that much needed break from the relentless hustle and bustle of Garden life. So much for that much desired little time alone…time spent alone with him.

Her need for gentleness suddenly evaporated as she packed up the machine with a tad more violence than necessary, practically ripping out the connection cables and slamming the mini-satellite shut before pounding the whole awkward thing into its standard SeeD casing. Her anger wasn't exactly justified, seeing as the reason they were cutting their vacation short was her fault to begin with. But she figured that anyone who had fallen victim to the malicious temperament of fate had as much a right to complain as the next brooder. And seeing as such, with one final firm yank at the case's zipper, she was back on her way to the orphanage. To Squall; a man who was none too pleased with her at the moment.

Luckily, she had had to tote the heavy communicator so far out into the fields in order to get the slightest reception reading that by the time she returned, the fast-flying enthusiast Selphie would have probably already arrived. Thus thankfully voiding her of the hour or so of awkward tension between her and her wounded, and not to mention very ticked off, _'boss'_.

Now that he was probably past the initial shock phrase of the injury, perhaps today would be the day he finally lost it with her. He'd yelled at people for less, and she pretty much deserved it for being so inept. Still, that didn't mean that she was going to welcome the coming showdown with open arms. In fact, she intended to avoid it as long as humanly possible.

Her thoughts were so muddled by dread that she hardly noticed when she arrived at the orphanage, practically walking head first into the deteriorating yet still solid concrete wall.

She paused. Bit her lip, then turned hopefully to the sky, using her hand as a visor to shield out the blaring pre-dusk sun. A quick scan of the horizon turned up nothing. Selphie and the majestic airship _Ragnarok_ were nowhere to be seen. For a minute she actually contemplated waiting outside in the fields, leaving Squall to curse her clumsiness to his little, frozen heart's content. But a sharp cry coming from inside the structure influenced her otherwise.

Instantly, all thoughts of stifling shame and annoyed glares vanished as she sprinted towards the doorway and her mind instinctively opened up, searching desperately for his anguished thoughts among the millions that harangued her.

_'Squall…'_

_'What happened?'…_

_'Are you okay?...Please be okay…Squall'_

_'I'm sorry…Let me in.'_

She was halfway around the building when she finally located his mind, not in the slightest bit worried about stealth or of him being offended at the intrusions, only the pure desire to know if he was alright.

What she heard almost made her fall over backwards.

The longest, **loudest** string of gangster film-worthy curse words filled her brain, causing actual physical tremors to her psyche. She automatically clamped her hands over her ears and focused on shutting him out, no longer worried but a tad surprised, as she always was, about the very un-Squall-like thoughts that went through his own head. She had assumed by his earlier reactions that the pain wasn't affecting him much, an obviously false conclusion according to what she had just heard.

With a grunt of frustration, Rinoa remembered now that Squall had an annoyingly large amount of pride to protect. Pride which forbade any outward displays of emotion. This along with habit and training, forcing him to hold back and constantly appear cool and collected, combined to produce a dangerous impression of false apathy that was sure to get him into trouble someday.

That idiot…she wouldn't have left him if she knew it hurt that badly.

As expected, when Rinoa did enter the building, walking casually so as not to embarrass him by her concern, the Commander was standing against the wall, sweating profusely with his lips clamped firmly together…his expression revealing nothing more than slight discomfort while internally, obvious to no one but her, he was swearing like a sailor.

It must have been very intense, occupying so much of his brain activity that he actually hadn't noticed her little intrusion. She thanked every God she could possibly think of for his once-in-a-lifetime ignorance. Past tests had proven that Squall was never very amused by her attempts to innocently read his thoughts.

Okay…maybe her motives were not always **_that_** innocent in comparison to this specific situation…

Clasping her hands behind her back while balancing on the balls of her feet, Rinoa leaned forward, trying her best to appear above suspicion and not at all amused. She took a slight step forward, paused, and then scrutinized Squall's wavering form. He was indeed a little worse for wear but at least still moving.

"What are you doing standing up?" she chastised lightly while casually shuffling towards him, an amused smirk on her lips.

It took him no more than a second to compose himself.

"I was bored" he muttered in a firm, calm voice. "Thought I'd go outside."

Short. To the point. Meaningless words that never truly expressed what he felt.

Again, she reached out into his mind, curious to know the truth he would never dare to admit audibly. The answer she discovered was surprisingly satisfactory.

_'I was worried about you…I wanted to check -'_

His thoughts cut off. Brutally severed as his head swiveled around to fix her with a piercing glare. It didn't take a mind reader to know that she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, yet again.

"I told you _not_ to do that" he said with strain, his words quivering with anger. He pushed himself straighter against the wall, using his elbows as levers in the deep crack in the concrete, his lame leg spread out before him. She failed to be intimidated.

Rinoa crossed her arms over her chest, taking the standard stubborn girl defensive mode. "If you'd only tell me what you really felt, I wouldn't have to."

"You're not my mother" he countered, fumbling a little on his attempts to take a one legged step, bracing himself on the wall. "I don't have to tell you everything."

"How about _anything_?"

Squall scoffed in exasperation. This was an old argument. How he was too close minded, too quiet, too self-sufficient, too busy. Always something. Nothing was ever enough…he wouldn't put it past her to have even shot him on purpose, just so that he'd have to depend on her for something. In that case, he would definitely not give her the satisfaction of asking for help. He'd had worse injuries. The Edea ice-pick through the chest for one. Also, coincidently, her fault. This was nothing in comparison.

"Whatever." He mumbled, independently trying to make his way to the door, weary of the conversation. It would take more than a measly bullet get Squall Leonhart to succumb, a fact Rinoa may want to take note of.

She watched him slowly move around the perimeter of the room, wincing with every step. Sweat was gathering on his brow, dripping down the sides of his face in a mixture of summer heat and the product of the agony of movement. The weak makeshift tourniquet on his upper thigh did little to stop to rush of blood and the white fabric was practically soaked through with red.

She wanted to keep quiet. She wanted him too speak to her on his own terms. But…

"Squall please" she winced as she saw an actual splash of blood hit the cold stone floor. "For the love of…Just sit down."

"You're not my mother." He repeated, too exhausted to think up a better retort. _'Nice one Squall.'_

"No. I'm not your mother." _'That would be wrong.'_ "I'm your friend. And you're not helping your injury."

"I'm fine." He rasped through clenched teeth, his eyes glued to the door; his prize.

"You need surgery. Stitches."

'_I need to get out is what I need. I need to get away from you.'_

"And that wimpy cloth is doing nothing to put pressure on your wound."

"What are you, a field medic now? I know what I'm doing."

Rinoa wanted to scream. Wanted to throw her hands up in the air and make a scene until he caved and gave her what she wanted under the pure desire to get her to shut up. But months of working with Squall had taught her a thing or two. And he was more a man of action than words.

Taking several decisive steps forward, Rinoa placed herself directly in front of Squall, so close the he could fell her breath on his lips, so close that the scent of her soap filled his senses, so close that he immediately felt suffocated. Thus, in a desperate attempt to retain some comfortable amount of personal space, his impulse reaction to the intensity of her presence was to take a hasty step backward…onto his injured leg.

A curse of agony, a wobble, a strong intake of breath and a resounding **thump** later, Rinoa was towering over him, smirking in triumph. She may not be all that tactful, nor all that menacing, but she was creative to say the least. And no matter how much Squall tried to deny it, she affected him. Two birds with one stone: she managed to prove her influence, a small personal victory, AND get him to sit down all in one innocent step.

She sauntered over to their gear piled in the corner of the room, deeming it wiser to get started while his was still recovering from the fall, flat on his back, unable to witness her actions. Some careful digging brought out the first aid kit she knew SeeDs carried in their standard luggage. In his haze of pain he had probably forgotten he had packed it. Another reason why bullet wound victims should not be allowed to dress themselves unless strictly necessary.

In the thirty seconds it had taken her to find the kit, her reluctant patient had already dragged himself toward the wall, leaning against it, trying his best at retaining some form of composure. Thankfully he was not strong enough to attempt any other detrimental stunts to escape nor did he have any breath to warn Rinoa away as she knelt beside him and began unwrapping to poorly done compress around his thigh. His skin immediately brightened to an odd shade of pale pink from a mixture of blood loss, physical exertion, anger and embarrassment upon feeling her insistent fingers on his leg. With a force usually reserved for deflecting attacks, his hands flew up to meet hers, preventing them from any further damage.

"Rinoa. Don't."

"Stop being so stubborn." She tried to writhe out of his grasp but he held strong, causing her to groan in frustration. "I'm not completely incompetent you know. A simple yet imperative cleaning and dressing to tide you over till Selphie arrives and…"

"_Selphie_! You asked Selphie to…" he trailed off, running a hand down his face in dire aggravation.

"She was the only one available so stop complaining since she's doing us a favor. Now hold still." The minute her fingers touched to makeshift gauze, again she was thwarted. This time violently as Squall forcefully pushed her away, sending her reeling backwards.

"**Dammit Squall**!" she threw the glass bottle of antiseptic down on the floor, causing it to shatter on the stone a few feet beside them. If this surprised the Commander, he showed no sign of it. His indifference only fueled the already unsteady fire of her rage. "What the hell is wrong with you, huh? I'm only trying to help! Not to mention trying to prevent gangrene so that you don't _lose_ that precious leg of yours."

"You've done enough by causing the wound in the first place. Thank you very much."

"You are such a…you're like the biggest freaking assho…I don't know why I put up with…!"

His deep breathing filled the room along with what sounded like the roaring ocean, thankfully drowning out his assistant's exasperating insults. His eyes shifted and strained to focus on his naked wound; pale, bloody flesh poking through the dark surroundings of his destroyed black leather pants. It was a nasty sight. And for the thousandth time, Squall found himself fighting down bile. Though few would ever believe it, the fearless Commander was actually never very comfortable with blood and gore. In fact, it made him downright queasy.

Rinoa's ranting faded into the background. Everything faded. He didn't know how long he was out in that dazed purgatory between unconsciousness and reality but when he opened his eyes again, she was there, having sprung at the chance to complete her efforts while he was distracted. Her hand, warm, insistent and inviting on his thigh.

'_Don't…please don't.'_

The effects of his injury had finally hit him, and through the daze of blood loss, pain and fever, he somehow could not find the will to fight her. Not physically at least.

"Rinoa…" he whispered, his throat dry and raspy. She ignored him. He hadn't expected any thing else. "Please…"

"I'm almost finished. Stop being a baby."

He couldn't see her. The world before him was a blur of color and shapes. But he felt her. The pressure of her finger tips as she wiped away the dried blood in a horrifyingly intimate area. Her familiar scent wafted through the air, assaulting his senses. She was warm. She was close. And only in this weird stage of dazed delirium would Squall Leonhart ever admit he was a normal man. And that yes, she affected him. But not in a very courteous way. Not in the way she wanted him too. He couldn't risk disappointing her to such a degree.

Somehow, he found the power to catch her wrist. Gently this time. Not to push her away but merely to grab her attention.

"What?" she snapped at him, meeting his bloodshot eyes with furious intensity. Had she not been so angry and thus distracted, maybe she would have tried her infamous mind intrusion trick. Maybe then, without his mental barriers up, she would have truly seen the depths of his soul and the real reason her didn't want her help dressing the wound. It had nothing to do with the need to be independent, nor machoism nor because he didn't trust her. But merely because…she would have to be touching him.

As she was touching him now. It was unbearable.

Their gaze was locked for not even a second, barely long enough for him to get his inaudible message across, before the reverberating sound of heavy engines in the distance filled the space around them. Both their gazes instantly shifted to the portions of sky visible through the crumbling sections of ceiling.

The Ragnarok.

Its red, metallic surface gleaming in the light of dusk like Apollo on his feiry chariot. Salvation . A Hero, rescuer from the moment. Squall almost smiled in relief. Almost.

"Saved by Selphie." Rinoa quipped, throwing the gauze down on the dirty floor in annoyance while standing up. "You lucky bastard."

"Bleeding on the floor. Stuck as an invalid in the middle of no where with Rinoa Heartilly, the one who injured me in the first place, as my only chance of salvation. Yeah. Lucky me." Along with the confirmation that the ordeal was over with, his spiteful attitude had also been resurrected.

Rinoa scowled. "Need I remind you that this was _your_ idea."

"True." He raised himself up, using the cracks in the wall of finger holds. "But if I had known you were going to be so inept with weapons, I would have arranged things differently. Like, let's say, in the backyard of a hospital."

"You're very funny Commander Leonhart." She muttered while shuffling her large pack of gear and luggage onto her shoulder, securing the straps around her waist before speaking again. "Well, as you said earlier, all it takes is practice. Next time, I'll aim higher."

She exited the room before he had a chance to reply which was, in a sense, beneficial to Squall since he had no reply to give. He was suddenly very grateful at Selphie's impeccable timing which allowed his potential confession to drift off into the breeze. Now, the subject would never have to be broached. And, for another day, he would still be _able_ to feel desire. Had Rinoa's shooting been a few inches off…

Squall shuddered, promptly dropping that heinous scenario, then came to terms with another equally gruesome reality.

The princess had left him alone. Not only without a human support to help him limp over to where the Ragnarok was settling in the fields, but also with his backpack, gunblade, and camping gear to drag along with him.

Squall's fist clenched at his side as he stared at the doorway she has disappeared through. He half expected her to return under the pretext of wanting to watch him suffer, but then be overwrought with guilt and offer to help him out in the end.

But no. She was too smart for that, and too offended by his remarks.

He sighed as he yet again continued his original path around the perimeter of the room, reaching the corner where his luggage and weapons were piled together. Even had he been full strength the amount was impossible to carrying alone. And so he settled on taking just his trusty gunblade, using it as a temporary crutch to support him across the field. Every step was agony, since Rinoa had left his wound open to the stinging breeze, he was all the more aware of the already mind-numbing pain.

He deserved it he supposed; by fighting off her attempts to help he had implied that he could handle it.

His words. His decision. His own misery to deal with.

With an almighty groan of defeat, the battered lion swung his heavy blade over the threshold, imbedding it in the soft grass a meter in front of him and then began slowly hopping towards it.

Slow and embarrassing, yes.

But also completely worth it.

She couldn't know. She would never know.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hey party people! 

First things first, just wanted to clear up some apparent misunderstandings with the title "Possession". It's always sketchy using one word homophones as titles but in this case I'm referring to the act of possessing/owning something, not the _ghost_ type of possession. Sorry about that, a lot of people seemed to be under the impression that Squall gets 'possessed' in this story. And though he will start acting strange, note in the future that it's by his own prerogative i.e: either drunk, frustrated, stressed etc. (though these examples may not necessarily be the case in a FANTASY story where authors have a rather broad artistic license). Teenagers who are put under that kind of pressure and years of suppressing emotions are bound to snap eventually. And the events at the end of the game were only the beginning -evil snigger- of an inevitable breakdown. Okay, I've said too much.

**HISTORY OF MAYONAKA'S FANFIC TITLES:**

_On a side note: the title comes from the famed Sarah McLachlan song, "Possession" aka: "Take Your Breath Away" and though extremely cheesy, I find the lyrics very close to describing Squall and Rinoa's intricate, love/hate, cat and mouse, all wrapped in hopeless fantasy relationship. Plus, it alludes to a woman who sort of forces herself into her lover's life, not taking 'no' for an answer. "I'll hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away - Would I stay forever here, and not be satisfied?" – Yep. Rinoa in a nutshell. And yeah, I'm not very original, having named my last fic "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" ALSO after a Sarah McLachlan song. The lyrics mention a woman who's taking a chance, opening herself up, claiming that no matter what "I won't fear love". Those words happen to fit Yuna's supposed thoughts to a T. So sue me. It's weird cause I'm not even a fan of her work :S. I just hear it everywhere. So yeah, that's all you'll ever need to know on the history of how and why I named my fanfic._

I hope Squall was more the in character this time around. In the last chapter I was obviously forcing the sexual connotation so strongly that I made him seem like a creepy pervert. Oops. Again, not my intention. Just wanted to spur some giggles. This fic has a rather intricate plot line that's coming out rather slowly. I meant to only post the first chapter of this, finish 'Fumbling' and then go full out on this one, updating every two weeks. But I'm having some blocks with the other fic…and I just can't go more than a month without new reviews. They're my drug :D. Thus, posting this chapter that was already written, along with the next three. Still aiming to get FTE done soon. School's coming to a close in two weeks. Woohoo! Then a month of freedom/part time work in which to write. Wow I've rambled on…this is the longest author's note ever. Hope you enjoyed! Looking forward, as always, to your comments.

**ADVERTISEMENT -POSSESSION CHAPTER FOUR**: Squall and Rinoa have been working together for the better part of a year since the defeat of Ultimecia. In that year much has happened, which will come out in random past scenes such as the one in this chapter. They have a past. The original ending of the game I have not altered...that night on the balcony did happen. But what changed then? They've skipped the cutsey, passionate relationship everybody has expected and gone straight on to bickering old married couple who sort of hate each other. These answers and more, tune in to 'Possession', Chapter 4 coming soon.

-Nancy-Elizabeth (Mayonaka)


	4. Definition

"One can be a soldier without dying, and a lover without sighing

"_One can be a soldier without dying, and a lover without sighing."_

**--Sir Edwin Arnold**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 4: …_Definition_ …

Selphie heard the airy 'whoosh' sound of the bridge doors opening and promptly sprang out of her chair to meet the newcomers, a wicked grin already forming on her lips.

Her expression instantly sobered however when, instead of a wickedly embarrassed-looking couple who had been caught in the act, her eyes only met one raven haired sorceress. One who seemed more than a little peeved.

Rinoa stomped up to the bridge, letting her backpack fall off her shoulders in her wake and then plunked herself unceremoniously down in the co-captains chair, rubbing furiously at her temples.

Selphie's narrowed eyes shifted towards Kayle, the other med SeeD who had volunteered/been forced to cater to the Commander's injury. The young cadet simply shrugged, his gaze also shifting focus between the new silent passenger, the over enthusiastic pilot, and the still door leading to the cabin.

'_Where is he?' _

Selphie had been kind enough to actually inform him of his mission during the ride, regardless of Ms. Trepe's insistence on being cryptic. He was here to patch up the Commander, having suffered an injury of a rather embarrassing nature while 'combat' training with his…secretary.

A superiorly trained and dedicated cadet would never succumb to any form of burning curiosity as to the exact circumstances of this rendezvous. A serious, determined soldier would know his place and take any order from his superiors without hesitation or question. A good SeeD would trust anything and everything his commander offered as excuse – even no excuse at all.

Kayle, however, was by no means _that_ kind of exemplary cadet.

"So…?" he began while rubbing his hands in front of him, hoping that perhaps he could be saved from stating the obvious. But Rinoa was in no mood to indulge anyone. He sighed. "The Commander is where now…?"

The Sorceress laughed, her dark eyes never leaving the ship's main windshield as she nodded her head towards the shadowy field before them. Instantly Kayle and Selphie were on their feet, fingers pressed eagerly against the glass as they struggled to adjust their eyes to the dying dusk light.

"Wow" Selphie exclaimed as her vision finally picked up on the hobbling figure of her Commander, struggling to get across the grassy, swampy field with only his gunblade as a crutch. Every move he made was wince provoking. He would burry his blade a few inches ahead of him, wiggling it securely into the soft earth and then limped/hopped pathetically towards it, moving more slowly than a snail…a snail with a limp…going uphill through molasses. That slow.

It looked pretty painful.

She couldn't help but cringe as she turned back toward Rinoa, her eyebrows raised in confusion, curious as to what had influenced the usually magnanimous girl to leave an invalid to struggle by himself. But before she could even begin to formulate a question, the sorceress' rambunctious laughter interrupted as she fell forward in her chair, her hair falling over her pale knees, struggling to suppress her somewhat manic giggling.

"Oh Hyne! Did you see that?" she exclaimed with malicious enthusiasm, her outstretched finger pointed toward the windshield. "That was priceless! Where's your camera when we need it Selphie? HAHA!"

"What? _What_?" She instantly whipped back to the windshield, struggling to regain focus.

"Ouch" Kyle hissed through clenched teeth. "That gotta hurt."

"What is it? What did I miss?" she searched frantically for the figure of her old friend, eyes glued to the exact place she was sure she had seen him last. But through the hazy light, all that was visible was the distinct outline of his trusty gunblade, jutting out diagonally from the ground. Squall was nowhere to be seen.

"Where did he go?" she asked with a lilting whine, moving her head this way and that in order to get a view from every possible angle. Still, nothing.

"He tripped" Kayle explained, his expression still fixed in a grimace. "And he hit his head on the hilt of his gunblade as he went down. And landed in one of the marsh's larger mud puddles I fathom."

"It was amazing." Rinoa added, still giggling. Kayle and Selphie both turned to face her with identical stares of incredulity.

"Oh stop looking at me like that" she waved their concerns away whilst squirming more cozily into her chair. "He's perfectly fine."

"Didn't you…uhh…shoot him?" Kayle asked carefully.

"Not on purpose" she retaliated in a creepily apathetic tone, concentrated on picking dirt from under her fingernails. "Not that he didn't deserve it."

The cadet turned to his superior, eyes wide with skepticism, silently asking what the hell was wrong with this woman. Selphie merely shrugged in response and leaned sidewise slightly in order to whisper _"lovers' spat"_ in his ear as simple explanation.

"Ohhhhh…" Kayle nodded in reluctant understanding and she winked.

"I heard that."

The perky SeeD jump-turned back toward the co-captain's chair and casually stuck out her tongue. "Maybe you were meant to?"

Rinoa chuckled and shook her head, still keeping her vision glued on the Commander's weapon in the field as she indulged her co-worker. This was an old debate between them, and Selphie was none too advanced in the art of being subtle.

"For the last time Selphie; Squall and I are nothing more than a lame rendition of friends who also happen to work together. That is it." It was the only defense she had against such petty speculation; fight blunt with even more blunt.

Still, Selphie was obviously unconvinced. "So you _say_…"

"So I **know**."

"So, you're trying to tell me…that _nothing_ has ever happened between you and Squall? Ever? Is that what you're saying?"

Rinoa's eyes narrowed at this, knowing very well what the privacy-ignorant girl was referring to: a certain event that she had tried to catch on tape the following year at the SeeD victory ball.

_Squall's infamous moment of insanity. _

Denying that night would be proving Rinoa a liar, thus leaving her defenseless against countless other inventive allegations. She had had enough experience playing these political games over the past year to know how to evade responsibility without ever being directly dishonest. In fact, since becoming a sorceress, defending herself legally had become a sort of specialty side-profession.

"Nothing _recent_ has happened between me and Squall." She rephrased, smirking at her success in avoiding unnecessary theatrics. "And nothing will, is what I'm saying."

"You sound disappointed?" Selphie teased, taking a careful step forward in order to better gauge the girl's reaction.

Rinoa's smirk faded. Gradually, her eyes moved back towards the windshield and she shifted to sit more rigidly in her chair. She seemed pensive and suddenly cheerless as if (was it even possible?)…a nerve had been struck.

"Maybe…" she started, absent mindedly twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Maybe I am disappointed."

Something in her voice forced the conversation to screeching halt then. Perhaps it was because of the extreme sadness laced within those few simple words. Maybe it was because Kayle was clearing his throat uncomfortably. But, most probably, it was due to the fact that Squall still hadn't gotten up.

After a full minute, despite her insistence that he be punished, Rinoa found herself unable to quell the sudden rush of fear that engulfed her heart, leaving her short of breath.

'_What if he lost too much blood? What if a wild animal got him? What if…'_

Instinctively, despite the fact that if Squall were conscious he would most definitely kill her, Rinoa leaned back and let her eyelids fluttered closed, deep inside her usual trance, her psyche reaching out to search for his to determine his fate.

'_Squall…'_

'_Where are you?...'_

'_Please. Where-'_

'Rinoa…'

'_Squall?'_

'Yes...'

Rinoa's brow knitted together in confusion, struggling to keep her concentration focused on the task at hand.

This was…different. Never had anyone been able to respond. It had never occurred to her that as she could read his mind, perhaps he could read hers. This could mean so many things. This could be…

'Your power does nothing more than open a connection Rinoa. It's not one-sided telepathy.' He answered before she had a chance to come to a conclusion herself. 'People have to choose to let you in.'

'_So that means,' _she smiled sheepishly_ 'that right now, you're letting me in?' _

She could practically feel his groan reverb through her own ribcage.

'I'm weak. In pain. I can't stop you…'

'_I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to check-'_

'And I hate it. I hate it so much. Get out.'

Suddenly she felt an overwhelming amount of pressure on her brain, like someone was squeezing it like a sponge. The sensation was both nauseating and euphoric. Like a shot of morphine laced with shards glass.

'_Squall, wait! Calm down. I'm just trying to…'_

He wasn't listening. Too busy putting all his effort into forcing her out. The pressure increased, the pain increasingly overwhelming the pleasure.

'_Squall stop, please stop!'_ The sensation reached a crescendo, like a vice clamping full strength onto her skull. Any moment now she was sure it was bound to collapse. _'You-you're hurting me!'_

'GET OUT!'

'_Stop! It hurts! __**STOP**__!'_

"And he's up!" Kayle exclaimed, thankfully mere moments before Rinoa's head may have exploded. Her eyes snapped open, scanning the field desperately for confirmation until she finally caught sight of the signature head of scruffy hair that was ever so slowly raising itself from the grass, wiping globs of mud off his face.

The two women let out clearly audible sighs of relief.

All three Garden residents watched in awe as the unyielding Commander awkwardly reached up for a grip on the hilt of his blade. His fingers finding a secure hold, he then cautiously used it as a lever to hoist himself into a somewhat upright position, leaning ridiculously far forward in order to get some leverage out of the unsteady weapon.

He stumbled once, plunging head first into the grass once more and everyone on the bridge gasped in alarm. But, at the last possible second, he caught himself. He used the arm that wasn't holding onto the gunblade for dear life to catapult off the ground, steady, and then, after rearranging his hold, moved forward once more.

"Wow. Gotta love a man with determination." Selphie mumbled, more impressed than ever with her boss' stamina. "Anyone else I know would have long since begged for mercy."

"Yeah well," Rinoa pushed her sweat soaked bangs from her forehead, eternally thankful that neither of her comrades noticed the physical evidence of their mental war games. "He made it perfectly clear to me that he neither wants nor needs help from anyone. Ever."

After being fairly certain that he was in stable condition (except for the moving slower than a snail with a limp uphill through molasses ordeal), Selphie decided to attempt a bargain with the woman so obviously scorned.

"You do realize that at the pace he's moving, this is going to take forever."

Rinoa's arms crossed in front of her chest, all traces of sympathy having for some reason vanished. "What he needs is to learn not to take people for granted."

"Look, I understand what you're trying to prove, trust me - I'm dating Irvine. But!…in the interest of getting home sometime before the next decade…can we not just, ya know, go get him?"

Rinoa chuckled again, quietly this time. More out of genuine amusement than sadism. "Like he'd take you up on the offer to _carry_ him back to the ship."

"It may come to that if he doesn't stop tearing that wound further open and loosing blood" Kayle added in, finally turning away from the window while shaking his head. "This is just too sad to watch."

"Pathetic isn't it? The extent he's willing to go to for his damn pride?"

Rinoa leaned further back in her chair, having already given up on the selfish wish that he falter and wave her down, begging for assistance. His mind had told her enough. He wasn't sorry.

Maybe shooting him hadn't been such a bad idea after all. Maybe it had been her subconscious lashing out to force an end to this ridiculously staged 'friendly vacation', despite the enjoyment her heart had been convinced of.

Maybe…

"You're just the same arrogant prick from before, aren't you Squall Leonhart?"

Rinoa felt her colleagues gaping eyes on her but rightly chose to ignore them. She was having a hard enough time dealing with the fact as it was.

Nothing had changed. And it sucked.

They watched as the Commander took another shaky near-tumble and Kayle finally lost his resolve. "Yeah well, arrogant prick or not, I think he's learned his lesson" he insisted a tad belligerently as he bent down to free his medical field kit from the straps that held it in place during flight. "I'm gonna go help the guy out."

No man deserved that kind of humiliation on top of physical suffering. Maybe it was some primordial need to defend his gender - a guy thing, or whatever - but Kayle found himself not only wanting to interrupt Rinoa's cruel joke for the sake of humanity, but he also wanted her to feel ashamed for her heartless actions.

Having retrieved his kit from storage, the young cadet closed his ears to any expected protests and hastily jogged towards the exit.

As soon as she saw him move, Rinoa sat up straighter with the apparent intention of intervening, but immediately Selphie's hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Let it go Rinoa." She insisted, pressing her censoring palm firmly down until the bridge doors closed safely behind Kayle's departure.

Without delay, Rinoa ripped the intruding limb off her face, wiping her lips disgustedly before speaking. "For your information _Selphie_, I was _about_ to remind him to bring the actual crutches that we have on the ship, thus making the walk back easier for both of them."

She rose an eyebrow in annoyance as Selphie's thin lips created a small 'o' of surprise.

"Oh…oops." She grinned sheepishly and giggled a little as she turned back towards the windshield to watch the scene unfold below. Within a minute, Kayle appeared lightly jogging towards his commander who gratefully waved him over.

She heard Rinoa scoff behind her, watching as the cadet did a quick check of the bloody gash on Squall's thigh with a flashlight between his teeth and meticulously begin wrapping it with gauze. The Commander didn't even flinch.

"Sure…you'll let him touch you" she mumbled, forgetting for a moment of the other presence accompanying her.

"What was that?" Selphie asked with unabashed curiosity while plopping herself down comfortably back in the captain's chair. "He wouldn't let you dress his wound?"

"Why do you think I asked for a _male_ SeeD?" Rinoa responded with a laugh. "He's very…uncomfortable around women. Well by 'women' I mean me, to be specific."

"He is not!" Selphie retorted while pushing the necessary buttons to restart Ragnorok's engines. "You're like, the _only_ person he talks to. And then he made you his assistant. And what about this trip, huh? Why would he do that if he was uncomfortable?"

In Selphie's mind there was no doubt of Squall's ardent feelings for Rinoa. He definitely had fun with her (he did, after all, spend all his free time in her presence). He, without a doubt, was attracted (she had caught his eye twitch when Rinoa leaned over the cafeteria table opposite him to retrieve the salt). Selphie was even relatively sure that she could say he loved her. Though to what degree was still disputed among the professional rumor artists of Garden.

Each of these feelings of Squall's had been analyzed and dissected to the point where she could write a thesis on the subject, each fact backed up by a long list of examples; actions and words, sights and sighs. The only mystery left to the young brunette was how far, exactly, the stoic SeeD taken these feelings. What exactly was the _definition_ of their relationship? And that was indeed the only question remaining.

"Anyway, my point is, you can't get mad at Squall for being a little spastic. I tried to hug him once and he literally **dove** out of the way. Seriously! He dove. Right into a conveniently placed pile of streamers while I ended up face down on the floor. Risked us both serious injury just to avoid an innocent little squeeze."

"That may have been because your hugs have a reputation of sending people to the infirmary" she reminded.

Selphie carelessly waved the accusation away. "Pfft. What kind of a man can't handle a solid minute of bear hugging? They're all just big babies" Rinoa nodded in extreme agreement with that opinion. "The point is, he may not be all that comfortable with you fondling his crotch-"

"Selphie! I did no-"

"**But**," she raised a finger in interruption, a smile on her lips to counter Rinoa's open-mouthed stare. "You cannot sit there and tell me that he doesn't give you special attention. Cause that would be lying. And lying is bad. Okay?"

The sorceress slowly pressed her lips back together and narrowed her eyes while quietly slinking back into her chair, eyes moving back to the windshield.

Outside, she watched as Kayle managed to get Squall as patched up as possible and was currently helping him hobble across the field, an arm slung around the cadet's shoulder. He seemed so at ease, embarrassed but grateful at having some help.

Sure, Squall did indeed give her special attention. He was more careful with her, more dedicated. Quiet, reserved and respectful at all times. He would push her to the limits of her endurance in training session, accompany her to every Garden social event, take special care that she stayed within the regulations while sneaking her up the social ladder of Garden's administration - not for her happiness, nor for her comfort, but simply so that he could keep an eye on her. Over the past year he had gradually molded her to be the perfect, model citizen and soldier. Like she was his precious Sorceress SeeD Barbie.

_Special attention indeed_. Rinoa had her own hypothesis relating to their relationship definition. One that was remarkably un-romantic, let alone scandalous. It was a classification that defined them as neither colleagues, nor lovers, nor even friends - though they had at some point been each of those.

"It's because he feels he needs to" she said quietly, her voice strained as if on the brink of tears yet saturated with spite. "He takes care of me, watches me constantly because he thinks it's his duty as a Knight to keep me under twenty-four hour surveillance. He's done everything to keep me safe from angry mobs and bad publicity despite his own desires to be alone. Everything." Rinoa's shining eyes met her friend's and in that moment Selphie stiffened in guilt, instantly regretting a whole year's worth of selfish probing.

She found herself looking back on each of her theories and examples: categorizing the events that she had once used as evidence. Every furtive glance, secret rendezvous and aura of tension shared by the couple was perhaps no longer the side-effects of maintaining a secret affair, but a consequence of awkward indecision.

"I lied before." Rinoa stated in a hushed, broken voice. "Squall and I are not just friends. We can't be friends at all. There's too much history. Too much expectation."

Selphie nodded with false understanding, her brain begging her to let it go then and there for the sake of her friend, but her heart pushing her to get to the bottom of things and set them straight. "Well…" she began, leaning over the armrest of her chair in an attempt to gauge her expression better. "What are you then?"

The million dollar question.

Rinoa shook her head, letting her eyes drift to the stars above, hoping against all hope that they would give her an answer.

Alas,

"I don't know."

The stars were all out of destiny tonight.

Selphie scooted closer to Rinoa's chair, careful to keep her curiosity tamed as she gently placed what she hoped felt like a hand of sincere condolence on her shoulder, squeezing tightly.

"Rinoa…?" Selphie prompted with concern, leaning forward in an attempt to catch her eye. "Are you okay?"

'_No'_ her mind instinctively responded. And, to her surprise and horror, her mouth followed suit.

"No." she felt her head shake slowly, independent of itself as if she had no control. "No, I'm not okay. I don't think I'll ever be okay. Not if something doesn't change."

"Rinny," Selphie reached forward and turned her friend's chair towards her so that they faced each other. "What do ya mean? Are you not happy?"

Rinoa continued to slowly shake her head. The past year hadn't been happiness she realized, it had been living off the hope of _potential_ happiness.

"I hate training every night till curfew." She admitted, her fists clenching at the fabric of her blue duster. "I hate having to keep Angelo in a kennel off-campus because of that stupid pet ban. I hate sharing a bathroom with other cadets. I hate fighting things all the time. I hate that I can't be out of my room past eleven. I hate waking up at five am to go to a job I hate, working for a cause I hate, and for a man who is hopeless."

"But," Selphie bit her lip, struggling to think of something, anything, that would convince her otherwise. "What about your friends? Zell, Irvine, Quistis and I? Our lunches together and – and the Garden Festival! Aa-And dancing. Squall dances with you doesn't he? At almost every function. It's not all bad. We've had good times."

Rinoa just kept shaking her head, silent tears slowly making their way down her pale cheeks, holding herself in self-consolation. That wasn't enough. Selphie knew that a lunch or two a week between missions, a festival or two a year and a few people who cared still wasn't much of an excuse for a life. But she pushed it anyway, selfishly, not wanting Rinoa to even consider what Selphie thought she was considering.

"You have so many people who love you at Garden. And so many opportunities! You-you could take a class! Become a medic or an instructor, huh?"

The only response was more dejected shaking of the head. She was getting desperate.

"Look, don't think about it now. Don't come to any rash decisions just because you had a fight with Commander Dumbass. He has the emotional sensitivity of a behemoth. Agreed?"

Rinoa let out a long, loud sniff this time, while still continuing to shake her head, this time more vigorously. "He won't change. He can't. And I'm not happy Selphie." Green eyes met brown, both overflowing slightly with unspoken confessions, unspoken needs. "I can't stay at Garden. Not another week…I just can't."

Selphie felt her heart skip a beat.

Rinoa was staring at her, waiting for something. Either the expected attempt to make her change her mind or maybe, the more difficult option; someone who agreed. And, to her shock and dismay, agree she did.

Squall would never change. Being a tough, quiet semi-jerk was just the way he was. It was a personality that his friends didn't exactly appreciated, but had at least learned to ignore. She could only imagine how difficult it must be to have fallen hopelessly in love with a guy like him…

Her mouth opened, then closed, succumbing to the large lump having formed in her throat.

"Rinoa…" the word hung on her lips.

She needed to say something. Anything.

"Rin. Rin I-"

"HYNE! That guy is **hea-vy**!" Kayle sauntered casually onto the bridge, rubbing aggressively at the shoulder which Squall had used as his crutch.

Selphie promptly fell out her chair upon hearing his voice, already sitting on edge by Rinoa's words and startled by his abrupt entrance. It took her a second to bounce right back up, daintily sweeping at the invisible dust from her yellow dress as both she and Rinoa tried to recover from the emotional weight of their conversation. Kayle shifted his eyes from the Sorceress, desperately wiping at her eyes, to Selphie, excessively blinking, and automatically came to the sore conclusion that he had interrupted something major.

"Uhh, I-I'm…" unconsciously, he found himself taking a step back, arms seemingly frozen mid-stretch above his head. Comforting crying girls was never the type of situation a teenage guy wanted to find himself in if having the choice. "I-I'm gonna go check on the patient."

He turned toward the exit with the intention of sprinting back out into the hall, but a loud and distinct yell of "WAIT!" froze him in his tracks. He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath.

Just great.

"How-How is he?" he could hear Rinoa's voice quivering with the distinct note of guilt and allowed himself a small smirk the name of justice. Squall certainly wouldn't have made it to the hull by himself, and the possibility of loosing his leg would be a direct result of her hissy-fit.

Women.

Tug on their pigtails and they'll retaliate by kicking you in the nads. An eye for an eye. Or in this case a bruised ego for a limb.

"I think we got him properly bandaged in time" Kayle announced from over his shoulder, adding _'no thanks to you'_ in his head. "I've slowed the bleeding but it's too dangerous to even attempt removing the bullet without an x-ray or a properly disinfected area. We'll have to wait till we get to Garden, and until then he's going to be in excruciating pain."

"I see." Rinoa slunk back in her chair and sniffed loudly, her eyes filling up once more as the realization hit her as to the extent of which this was her fault. "If he's in so much pain can't you…I dunno…give him something?"

"You mean morphine, painkillers?"

Rinoa perked up. "Yes! That would help wouldn't it?"

"That would. That would help a lot." Kayle agreed, nodding thoughtfully. Rinoa beamed at his response, proud at having offered useful advice to redeem her mistakes, but then caught sight of Kayle shaking his head. Her face instantly fell.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Morphine would help of course – that is if I had any."

This time is was Selphie's turn to interrogate the medic. "What do you mean you _don't have any_?" she screeched, taking a decisive step forward with her fist balled in rage. Kayle however, remained immovable. "I know for a fact that morphine is a required item in all field med kits before being signed out."

The cadet nodded curtly. "I know it is. And I was equipped with it. That is until…"

"Until what?" the reddening SeeD interrupted. "Until your buddies dared you to use it? Or maybe, you sold it on the street? Or maybe…"

"Until Co-Headmistress Trepe insisted that I remove all narcotics from my kit before boarding the Ragnarok." He finished with a shrug of innocence, trying with all his might not to appear too amused at Selphie's blush of embarrassment. "She even had security check my luggage to make sure I wasn't sneaking any on."

Both women were speechless at the revelation, their mouths opening and closing in a jumble of one-worded exclamations and incomplete sentences.

"Quistis told you to – What? I- Huh?"

"I don't get – She wouldn't - but why did -?"

"Wait a sec…" Selphie paused and took a moment to remember the look on the blonde's face when her finger landed on the coordinates of the couple's position on the map. She remembered how the usually passive woman's eyes flashed when it was revealed to her exactly how Squall had been injured. Combat training with Rinoa.

Because she was not on the administrative staff and only a regular SeeD, Selphie was not always kept up to date on the exact details outlining what had been dubbed _'the Angelica policy'_. Still, she found it safe to assume in this instance Squall had pushed some boundary, some pre-ordained deal, way past the breaking point.

"Commander's not doing too well with the ladies today, is he?"

Rinoa shot Kayle a glare as she carefully slid herself out of the large leather chair. "This is ridiculous" she muttered under her breath as she stampeded past Selphie, her eyes burning holes into Kayle as she approached. "It's torture, not punishment!"

The cadet shrugged. "One could argue that torture and punishment are one and the same Miss Heartilly."

"Well they're not! Quistis is just being a tyrannical, self-important…jerk! She's just trying to prove her power over him."

"But Rinoa…" Selphie offered, taking a coy step forward. "I don't want to be one to point out the painfully obvious but, uh…" she met eyes with Kayle for support, who nodded his approval. "Didn't you kinda, uh, do exactly the same thing?"

Rinoa had a come-back on the tip of her tongue, a long rant about how Quistis hadn't been wronged like she had. About how she had tried to help but Squall had denied and thus deserved to be left alone.

But, the more she thought about both their reasons, the more both stories began to sound the same. And, as painful a conclusion as it was, she and her more peroxide infused counterpart were both completely in the wrong.

With a grunt of irritation, Rinoa headed for the door, leaving a smirking Kayle and a nervous Selphie in her wake. She pressed the necessary button to release the bridge air seal and then paused…cursing quietly as she remembered a certain pesky fact.

"Our gear is still in the orphanage." She stated to the other SeeDs. "I'd appreciate it if you two could go load it up and then take off as soon as you're ready."

Kayle was automatically defensive, his arms crossed over his chest rebelliously. "Why should we have to-"

"Sure thing Rinoa" Selphie interrupted; giving the cadet a firm nudge in the ribs to silence any further attempt at gender defense.

Rinoa gave a small grin of silent thanks before making to leave again.

"But Rinoa!"

She paused, inclining her head slightly in Selphie's direction to show she was listening.

All traces of bouncy-ness gone, Selphie nervously bit her lip, desperately trying to sort out her muddled thoughts into one, coherent sentence. "What exactly – where do you…uh. What, exactly, can you say to him? What's the point in going down there, huh? He's only going to get mad."

Rinoa closed her eyes as a small guard against the weight of her words, her decision. "I need to know…" she said breathlessly, her hands gripping the threshold so tightly that her knuckles were white.

_Colleague. Friend. Lover. Pick a card, any card. _

_Ace of Spades. Three of Clubs. Queen of Hearts. Define yourself, your relationship. _

What relationship?

"I need to find out…"

"What we are."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Not much to say here. I just wanted to update my profile with SOMETHING and I've had these chapters sitting here for over a year while I've been struggling with Fumbling Towards Ecstasy. I'll be working on it tonight and perhaps, by some miracle, I'll have a complete chapter ready! In the mean time, hope you enjoyed my tester fic here. It's confusing I know but the past becomes clearer in the following chapters.

Despite what Rinoa and Squall went through near the end of the game, I never considered him to be the type of guy to simply suddenly turn into "Mr. Romance" because they survived a war together and all that. Though of course, they've since formed a bond as sorceress and knight but in the end when you think about it, not much has changed. This story stems off how I believe a true, passionate romance would develop for these characters. One that involves a lot of kicking and screaming. Hope you are all looking forward to discovering how as I am excited to write it.


	5. Need

**Reminder **_last time, on Possession:_ One year after the end of the game, thing are finally settled. A world consul has been formed, SeeDs act as global peace makers and finally, _finally, _the suffocating media that stalked our group of heroes has dispersed. Though their exact relationship is still a mystery to Garden residents, Squall and Rinoa almost never leave each others side. But, as we find out soon enough, the reason for this is primarily professional – Squall being paranoid of her delicate reputation that is tied to Garden's and Rinoa, as his assistant, fulfilling his every tedious request if only to keep busy while she waits…

An archeological dig to Odin's tower in Centra meets an abrupt and messy end when Rinoa accidentally shoots Squall in the leg. Her patience hits a breaking point when he refuses to even let her dress the wound, still unwilling to let her close in any way. Rinoa decides then and there, with Selphie their pick up rescue as a witness, that she can no longer wait. Squall needs to either move forward or let her go.

**Author's Note:** Warning, this is an insanely long chapter. It just wouldn't have made the same point if I separated the two scenes. Make sure to eat, take bathroom breaks and all that while reading. Also, hope this makes up for my long absence. Enjoy

"_You can't always get what you want._

_But, if you try sometimes, well,_

_You might find you get what you need. "_

**--The Rolling Stones**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 5: …_Need_ …

The metal door seemed to return her glare with an equal intensity, chastising her with its bitter ambiguity. It was the final barrier between her and a distressing, uncertain and most probably lonesome future. The last chance she had to be happy.

"Now or never." Rinoa told herself quietly, still struggling to build the resolve needed to even knock; such a simple action that would release the floodgates, leading to the most difficult decision she would ever have to make in her life.

Kayle had Squall set up in one of the cabin bedrooms on the lower deck, the closest resting place from the entrance ramp and conveniently the furthest point from the bridge. Upon her feet touching the space adjacent to the threshold, the hallway lights had suddenly flickered and died, bathing her in total blackness. All signs reminding her of how much he wanted to be left alone and how much she was unwanted.

Maybe she should wait until their return to Garden to speak with him. After a dose of morphine. Or perhaps after the surgery would be better. After his anger towards her eased. After he recovered a bit. After….

With a sigh of exasperation at her own cowardice, Rinoa leaned her head against the door and took a deep breath. She reminded herself of how many times this past year she had stopped herself from bringing up their future for the sake of his comfort. It was either too early, or that latest contract had put him in too bad a mood or he was too busy or too tired or there was too a great a chance of interruption or merely _she_ wasn't in the right frame of mind. Excuse after excuse after excuse.

Despite his less than ideal mood, at least he was alone. At least he couldn't physically run away and, after his many weeks of preparation for this vacation time, she knew for a fact that there were no pressing Garden matters to distract him or be a legitimate reason to put things off.

Her hand raised, balled itself into a fist and yet remained frozen. She flexed her fingers, hovering above the cold metal, still reluctant to touch knowing how badly it could burn. "Now or never…"

He promised her a solution, an ending. A compensation so overdue it was more needed than wanted.

"_When it's over"_ he had promised.

He had promised…

_______________________________

_10 months earlier…_

*CRASH*

"_Son of a…"_

*BANG*

"Hey you!..._ouch_… It-It's me."

*CLANK*

The greeting was unnecessary, so he didn't bother to turn around and acknowledge it. After all, he had heard her coming for the past ten minutes through her noising traipsing around the training center, plowing down monsters while desperately seeking the camouflaged door she never really did get the hang of pointing out.

"You left the party pretty early this time. Even for -_ouf_- someone of -_damn it_!– your anti-social caliber." The elegant sorceress stumbled through the entrance-way, pulling on the yards of dress fabric she had bunched up in her hands as it inevitably caught on every splinter and twig in the so called "secret-place" – also now known as the "forbidden place" since Garden's sudden departure from its roots all those weeks ago had compromised the balcony's structural integrity. Students were now banned on penalty of suspension for even considering their usual trysts within the general training center area.

This made it the perfect spot to seize some much needed quiet time, as long as you were careful.

"For the love of…!! Urg. I think I broke a damn heel. Can you believe that? And these are new damn shoes."

Well, sort-of quiet time.

He couldn't help but grin at her efforts, having already foreseen the trouble she would have the moment he saw her enter the ballroom earlier that evening; this time opting for a floor length gown instead of her usual short summer dresses. He listened calmly to the pleasant rustle of fabric as she dropped the dress back to the ground, picked off the burrs and desperately tried to shake off mud stains from the yards of shiny, blood-red material.

_Red_ material, he was reminded.

Squall's lips instantly drooped into the thin line of a subtle scowl.

Of the entire, vast spectrum…she had had to choose **red**.

"That color is inappropriate" he said calmly, cocking his head to the side so that she could hear him. "You made the media and generals nervous."

"Yeah, well that's cause I look damn good in it," she quipped, eyes focused on untying the straps of her broken sandal while shakily balancing on the other heel "who cares?"

Nothing then could have stopped the sigh from escaping his lips. She was the only one who could incite such intense frustration in him, and seemed to enjoy spurring it at every possible chance. Prodding sleeping lions was just a regular Saturday night for Rinoa Heartilly.

It was just such an _obviously_ tactless color to wear for her first public appearance since the end of the Ultimecia affair. Red all too often being attributed to death and war and therefore the last thing people wanted to see on the world's only living sorceress. The choice was a needlessly risky thing to do. In fact, it was downright reckless.

"I thought you were going to wear the green one" he replied quietly, barely concealing his strain. "The one I got you from DeBauer's?"

The young Sorceress raised her shoulders and held out her free hand palm up, as if to say she genuinely and innocently had no idea where the expensive yet unflattering garment had disappeared to. And yet, if it happen to be later found tied to a rock at the bottom of Garden's central fountain, neither of them would be surprised.

The Commander sighed again.

"Oh lighten up Squall," she chastised, pulling up the hem of her dress and exposing her now bare feet to cautiously leap over the many deep fissures that separated her from Mr. Neurotic. "If indeed the rest of the world is as paranoid as you and judges my sanity by the symbolism in the color of my clothing, then wouldn't you think green, the color of peace, would be a little _tacky_?"

He blinked at her slowly, desperately fighting the urge to roll his eyes at her uncanny ability of being seemingly oblivious.

"They'd just think I'm overdoing it to the point of suspicion or something. Besides," she hopped up onto the granite banister beside him, tucking the thick layers of tulle between her legs for an easy getaway and depositing the muddy remnants of her shoes between them "I wanted to surprise you."

"Mission accomplished" he grumbled, though the twitching corner of his lip let Rinoa know that he was indeed somewhat amused. She smiled lightly in return and leaned her head back to look up at the stars, never ceasing to be amazed at the beauty of the open sea whenever Garden decided to leave its roots on these special occasions.

A deep breath of the salt-tinged air brought back memories – memories of a night not long ago from this one, when the two of them stood on a similar balcony together, feeling for once like the carefree teenagers they were meant to be.

Quickly, she shook the images away, mentally scolding herself for daring to reminisce. After only two months, things were massively different now…calmer, thank goodness. But sometimes, to her extreme chagrin, she missed the excitement of war and - not to mention - the passion it had brought out in Squall. Recently, he seemed to be losing more and more of that spark daily as it became apparent that he would be doomed to a life behind a desk, pushing paper.

What a dismal ending to such a romantic adventure.

"Anyway," She continued their earlier conversation, knowing that if she didn't set boundaries now, the future would include Squall ordering her an entire wardrobe from some mass-produced, mail-in catalog. "I was…" she paused to find the right, most inoffensive word "_honored_ that you picked out a dress for me. Not to mention, the visualizations of you shopping had me laughing out loud for a couple of hours."

"I'm glad you appreciated my efforts" he huffed sarcastically. "Especially since I'm now permanently banned from being within fifty feet of the Estharian shopping district."

Rinoa let loose an involuntary giggle, nodding as she envisioned a red-faced salesman being grabbed by the collar and being told, quite calmly of course, that he really didn't give a damn about the discount card. No matter how much he saved in the long run.

"But I did appreciate it!" She insisted while desperately trying to keep a straight face, turning towards him and pushing her shoes aside to lessen the gap between them. "You more than anyone know it's been hell for me hiding out here 24/7. And I had, of course, assumed you were ignoring my frequent complaints of having nothing to wear for this ball."

"I don't think I could have ignored you if I tried."

"Yeah, yeah, I've been annoying, I get it" she remembered one specific instance that involved storming into his office and showering him with about a hundred Polaroids of smiling students holding the fashionable new garments they had just purchased for the ball. Everyone was bursting in excitement at the fact that this one social event had a non-uniform dress code, especially the younger female cadets. She had had to sit in the Garden entrance hall for an entire weekend to get enough photos to get her point across. But what the hell, it wasn't like she had anything better to do.

"The point is, as honored as I was, that dress…" she envisioned it again; it's high, round neck, long, tight sleeves and, for extra fun, the embroidered daisies around the hem of the shimmering, dark green material. From the finest fashion boutique in Esthar or not, it would have made her look like a twelve-year-old Garden Festival fairy.

She didn't blame him really. He was probably just yet another poor guy that had been doped by the salespeople into thinking it was the perfect chic present, when really it had been hanging on the racks for over 20 years. She also imagined his desperation to not be seen in such a store just may have been a factor in such a rushed decision. But how to explain this without seeming…like an ungrateful twelve-year-old Garden Festival fairy?

"It just…wasn't me" she explained genuinely, praying that he didn't ask for an elaboration. Not that Squall _ever_ asked for elaborations. "You understand?"

Her eyes rose in an attempt to catch his gaze, wanting to stream her irrefutable apology. But he continued to stare blankly ahead into the ocean, the only sound from his lips were from their contact with his glass of champagne.

As usual, it was up to her to continue the conversation and hopefully pique his hidden reserves of empathy.

"So this old thing," she spread out the layers of her dress smoothly across her lap, leaning back on her palms so that he could get a good view. "Just in case you were curious, it's actually a puffed-sleeved, 20 layered, hoop-skirted ball gown that my dad forced me to wear to my 14th birthday party. The red…the color was an ode to my mother I guess. It was her favorite."

This description finally caught his attention enough, if only for a quick glance in her direction. His brows furrowed as he noted the fitted, hoop-less and strapless number she was currently adorning; much closer to Julia's infamous red dress he remembered from her Galbadian bar-singer days than the horrendous child's garment Rinoa was describing. He didn't ask any questions of course, but she knew to continue on.

"It was one of the many bad memories Carraway sent over in the box of personal effects received last week, remember?" As expected, she saw his shoulders immediately release and the subtle change of his hands unclenching his glass as he realized what she was saying. She smiled. "You haven't seen me this past week because I've been locked in the infirmary learning how to sew. Luckily, with a few extension darts taken from the extra layers and a LOT of snipping, this cupcake costume could be transformed into something passable. And there ya have it."

As remarkable as the news of her succeeding at any manual craft may have been to some, Squall seemed completely unfazed. He took another sip of his champagne and carried on as usual, pretty much ignoring her existence. With a frustrated groan, she continued.

"So…in case you thought, I dunno, that perhaps I had snuck out to go _shopping_. Well, I didn't. I wouldn't do that to you. Okay?"

Squall only shrugged, keeping his eyes on the ocean while twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. She could tell the word 'whatever' was probably on the tip of his tongue and yet, for his own safety considering it was a long drop off the balcony, he cleverly refrained.

"So you can't be mad at me" the sorceress asserted while shuffling even closer, trying to obstruct his view with her face. "You're not allowed. In fact…if anything, I should be mad at you. I didn't break our _Garden-arrest _agreement, no matter how insanely pointless and infuriating I found it to be and…and you-You still made absolutely no effort to make it any easier, spending most of your waking hours in the office an-and training."

"I've been busy."

"You mean you didn't want to risk being seen with me?"

"Rinoa…" he finally turned towards her then, defiantly crossing his arms over his chest "not everything is about you believe it or not. We did just come out of a World War and we're the only party anyone considers 'objective'. Trust me when I say; _I've. Been. Busy._"

"Pft…_busy_" she muttered under her breath, leaning back into her original position that aimed away from him. He wasn't too busy to kill 12 T-Rexes in a row like he did last Saturday. Nor too busy to visit Ellone in Esthar _twice_ since the end of the war. "Busy indeed."

Despite her relentless urge to bring up these examples, to make him admit that he had screwed up, Rinoa had long since learned that such tactic were more aggravating than inspiring to Squall Leonhart. Voicing her disappointment with his actions (or lack there of) since their return from time compression would do little to improve, if not break completely, their still very fragile relationship. And so she bit her lip, eyes focused on the glittering of her painted nails in the moonlight, and waited for her heartbeat to return to normal before speaking again.

Soon enough, Squall returned to his surveillance of the scenery, the only sounds being the tinkering of glass as he refilled his champagne from some hidden store in the wreckage of the balcony. Rinoa couldn't help but wonder if this uncharacteristic drinking was for stress-relief or, most probably, to have a constant excuse to occupy his lips and refrain from speaking.

"Irvine liked my dress…" she mentioned casually after a few deep breaths, her finely plucked eyebrows raised in innocence. She could feel Squall's reaction even though her gaze remained on her fingers; a tightening of the grip around his glass and a more rigid spine. She smiled knowingly. Her approach was used not so much to inspire protectiveness, but meant to remind him that some men in the room had bothered to notice the fine craftsmanship…of both her _and_ the garment. She giggled, falsely, in remembrance. "I walked by and, even with Selphie on his arm, he couldn't help but stutter 'Wow'. Haha."

"Irvine says that to anything wearing a skirt" he reasoned quietly, taking another healthy gulp from his glass.

"Whatever the reason," she waved his comment away, unable to resist feeling annoyed once again. "It makes a girl feel worthwhile, ya know? Do you think this" she gestured from her messily curled hair down to her shoeless feet poking out from the tulle, metallic red nail polish sparkling on her toes "happens in five minutes? Not everyone can just roll out of bed, pull a comb through their hair and deem themselves ready for high society."

"I showered too you know" he rebutted, taking another sip to hide an involuntary smirk. "And where do you think this came from? My closet?" he gestured to his obviously new and personally tailored black suit and cerulean colored shirt; a combo that, she had to admit, fitted him perfectly and had for sure taken _someone_ hours of searching. The blue was just dark enough to highlight the brightness of his eyes while the strict cut of the jacket and pants kept the impression of a solemn diplomat. It was also just stylish enough to confirm that he had nothing to do with its selection. Had it been left to him, Squall would have surely stuck with the SeeD dress uniform regardless of the ball's open code.

"Oh please. _Your sister_ obviously ordered that for you" she proudly rebuked. "You only had to deal with a fitting. In your office, two weeks ago. Took ten minutes. No more, no less. Took longer to get one of those damn curlers out of my hair, so you get none of _my_ pity."

Squall squinted at her, taking into account how she could have possibly come by such odd facts regarding his schedule. "You've been reading my agenda again, haven't you?"

"Only because it's the closest thing to your diary. I've been _that_ bored."

"You know some things are personal in this world."

"Yeah…Hyne forbid I tell anyone about your 9 pm toe-clippings and 6 am carrot muffin" she snatched the champagne glass from him the moment he set it down on the banister, taking a deep gulp before he had a chance to react. Squall moved to retrieve it but ingeniously withdrew after swiftly calculating his options. She thanked him silently, for as hilarious as an under-age drinking lecture from him may have been, tonight she really wasn't in the mood.

It took a moment, but soon enough the slightly sour liquid suddenly hit her taste buds like a hammer, prompting an unexpected struggle to control of her gag reflex. Squall's expression held no indication of surprise.

"What the…" she was interrupted by a gag/cough so strong that it threatened to bring her stomach and lungs up into her mouth "…heck Squall?! Blagh. Are you trying to kill me?"

Squall raised one eyebrow. "Yes Rinoa. I poured _myself _a glass of champagne with the malicious intent of having you steal it from me as part of a plot to kill you."

Her wince deepened, finding the combination of the Commander's joking and the vile beverage a little too much to handle in one night. "Sarcasm does not become you Leonhart."

"True. But in your defense, I should have seen it coming and warned you. I don't think you've left one of my meals un-sampled since your arrival here."

"Thus the 'are you trying to kill me' remark. Blehhh…" Rinoa discovered that night, after careful consideration, that there was no elegant or subtle way to spit off of a balcony. At least there was only Squall to witness. "What is this stuff anyway?"

"It's a 68' Chatreuse" he explained in that eerily calm tone he sometimes used to reprimand cadets – scaring the hell out of them with his apparent apathy. "A 'jewel', I'm told. That's a direct quote."

"Is that Shumian for 'snow lion urine'?" Rinoa mumbled, sticking out her tongue in the hope that the wind would blow the taste away. "Whash dues zat evensh mensh?"

"It means about 6,000 gil a bottle."

In the midst of another sip just to spite him, Rinoa was suddenly weighing the possibilities of nonchalantly spittle-ing it back into the glass. A metric cup cost more than she would make in a week as a cafeteria worker. In a late attempt to be lady-like, she decided to swallow (it wasn't so bad after the initial shock) and face judgment.

"Sooo…An arm? A leg? First born child? What do I owe ya for that hearty snow lion urine?"

Squall smiled. It was something he did rarely and only for her when she did something outrageously comical as apparently this was. She couldn't help but return the gesture, cheeks hurting in the effort to contain her glee. It had been too long.

"Your punishment…" he said in his mock-authoritarian voice while bending down the retrieve the bottle from between the banister columns. "Is to help me finish it." He poured her another glass, lips pressed together to keep from laughing as he saw her expression immediately turn to one of horror.

"Anything but that…" she said through a tight throat. "I'm serious. _Anything_."

Squall really did laugh this time. Well, not so much laugh as softly chuckle. And yet it still caused her heart to begin hammering madly in her chest as if it were trying to escape. Hyne forbid he ever discover how truly adorable he was.

"This was a present from the President of Esthar" he informed her, causing Rinoa to eye the bottle with newfound awe.

"Laguna?" It all made slightly more sense now. Laguna was known to be more than generous with his fortune that had accumulated to outrageous proportions through years of earning a president's salary and spending on nothing more than rudimentary essentials. And now that he had all these new "friends" to hero-worship for saving his city, he tended to go a bit overboard, buying whatever extreme gifts society deemed to be the most extravagantly desired. She, Selphie and Quistis had all received _diamond_ tennis bracelets a few weeks after time compression. Though they had each vowed to return the items for reasons such as "he owes us nothing" and "SeeDs have no need for such frivolous things", Rinoa was pretty sure the other girls had been just a reluctant to let go of something so deliciously sparkly.

As the leader Squall had received the bulk of the President's generosity, to his extreme annoyance. It seemed every week there was something new and outrageous publicly delivered to Garden, and probably other, smaller gifts that the Commander had somehow been able to hide. These ranged from a leather and platinum gunblade case to premiere cruise tickets for the entire gang to one of the rarest and fastest cars in the world. Squall had had to hire an assistant for the job of returning or, if impossible, reselling all these gifts and giving the profits to charity. His visits to Ellone in Esthar also always had the underlying excuse of lecturing Laguna to stop the insanity.

"Well," Rinoa hesitantly brought the glass back to her lips, reminding herself that what she was about to consume, no matter how nauseating, was worth its weight in gold "that was…nice of him." At least he probably _meant_ it to be nice.

Out of all the awesome presents he had received, Squall had had to keep this one. She couldn't help but voice this observation.

"If I'd known you'd be into sharing, I would have pushed harder to get you to keep the car" she tried to say coolly, but Squall still groaned in response.

"I couldn't have accepted that and you know it."

"Why not?" she was suddenly passionate about the subject, most likely out of mourning for her lost tennis bracelet. "We saved the freakin' world Squall! Why not revel in it a little? All you've done so far is work. And all I've done so far is sit on my ass."

"I can't just accept ridiculously large gifts from the president of _any _country. I'm supposed to be objective. How would that look?"

"Well then why this…atrocity of a beverage huh?" she gestured to the bottle in his hands, surveying the glittering label and wondering if it indeed made out of sheet gold.

"This…this wasn't a 'hero' present" he explained in that same frighteningly forced calm. "This was a birthday present."

Rinoa opened her mouth only to promptly shut it, a string of expletives quickly surfacing in her mind but none strong enough to define this moment.

_A birthday present…?_

Squall had a birthday? When did that happen?

It was her own fault. Not only had she never bothered to ask but she should have known how reluctant he would be to ever freely inform her of the date. It wasn't in his agenda, neither Cid nor Edea gave any hint, Ellone couldn't remember that far back and not even Selphie had been able to override the security on his records to force the offending date to surface.

She didn't apologize. She figured he was more than happy that no one had made a fuss. But that all but begged the question, of all people…

"How did Laguna know?"

Squall was awkwardly quiet, which for Squall was alarming indeed. She swallowed the lump in her throat, chasing it with more champagne as she realized she had probably asked the one question he had not wanted her to ask. Those trips to Esthar…there was something else behind them. There must be.

Not now, later. He would tell her when he was comfortable. Of that she was certain. But for now, out of respect, out of wanting to survive this night with their friendship in tact, she had to drop it.

"So, 18!" she said with overdone enthusiasm. "Does that mean you're the one I call for beer runs? Signing permission slips? Voting?"

He smiled again, sadly this time, but to reward her for her obvious efforts despite the burning curiosity.

"It's August 23rd by the way" he stated softly, leaning towards her in case the walls were listening. "And don't you dare tell Selphie."

Rinoa made the gesture of zipping her lips and throwing the key over her shoulder into the dazzling water below. This was one request that she had to problem adhering to. Selphie would have undoubtedly pressured her into doing something ridiculous like pop out of a cake wearing a SeeD emblazoned bikini singing "happy birthday Mr. Commander" if she knew. Plus, knowing that she was the only one of his close circle that knew the date gave her a sort of indefinable thrill.

Slowly but surely she was starting to piece his life together, one little seemingly insignificant fact at a time. Who knows? Maybe by his 19th she'd know his favorite color and shoe size.

As frustrating as this pace was, it was really all he had to offer. And because of that, these little secrets of his, the fact that he was willing to share any hidden part of himself with her, made them more special than a dozen diamond tennis bracelets.

She took another big gulp, finishing the glass. It really wasn't that bad if you didn't keep it in your mouth for too long. She passed the glass back to him, shockingly noting how much more difficult it was to focus all of a sudden.

The teetering sorceress struggled to softly turn the bottle on the banister back towards her, scowling as she finally was able to spotlight the offensive percentage. A Chatreuse 68' champagne was nearly 28% alcohol.

A "jewel" indeed. No wonder it tasted so bad.

"I…I think I'm a little drunk…" Rinoa mumbled through an unexpectedly loose tongue. She held her hands out in front of her face, concentrating on making them flex and un-flex, sighing as her suspicions were confirmed. "Dammit. I keep forgetting what a light weight I am."

"I should have warned you. You don't have to stay." Squall said, stepping in for a quick rescue in case she decided to teeter off the edge. "I shouldn't have made you…It wasn't right of me to…" he sighed, rubbing at the skin between his eyes, thinking again. Blaming again.

"I'm fine Squall" she insisted, holding on to the banister edge more tightly just in case. She didn't trust herself to hop down and land properly on her feet. "Just a little light-headed. It'll pass."

Though it didn't show at all in his stance or speech, having had thrice as much as her he was bound to be feeling something. Rinoa involuntarily giggled at the thought, quickly cutting herself off as she realized that such reactions would certainly not help her case. Squall, of course, eyed her suspiciously for a moment before offering his hand.

"I'll take you to your dorm."

"No! No!" she angrily slapped the fingers away that made to pull her off the ledge. "So what I'm drunk. The night is young! This is what I meant before. _This_ is the _reveling_ we need!"

"You're about to revel yourself down a 3 story drop." He informed her, taking advantage of her distracted state to forcibly grab her by the hips and bring her down to safe, relatively solid ground. Rinoa hardly had time to acknowledge the action before he had let go and for that she mentally slapped herself. Like the random facts of his life he sometimes rewarded her with, his even rarer touches were even more cherished. He wouldn't have done it if she hadn't been drinking, but she couldn't appreciate it properly because she had been drinking. It was the most maddening of catch-22s.

"But-but the night is _young_!" she insisted, planting her feet firmly on the ground as he attempted to push her towards to door.

"You said that already. It's getting old pretty fast I'd say."

"Come on Squall" she easily side-stepped his attempted shove, causing him to stumbling a few feet forward – something the normal, perfectly balanced Squall would have never allowed to happen.

She giggled again as the evidence of his intoxication mounted, made all the more hilarious by her own lack of sobriety.

"Rinoa please…" he turned back towards her, serious once again. "I didn't mean to drag you into my self-destructive behavior."

"It's a party Squall." She reminded him, holding out the edges of her long dress as a reminder. "Drinking isn't self-destructive at a party. Its called being **normal**."

"I doubt anyone at that ball has the same reasons I have."

"Like you're the only one who gets stressed around here. Not everything's about you Squall…" she mirrored his words from earlier in the evening, her expression containing an unsteady smirk of triumph.

"Rinoa…" it was more of a growl than a request this time. "We're going."

Though usually that tone would have made her yield, the little buzz in head had made her oddly brave. And she had no intention of the night ending just yet.

"Rinoa come on-"

"I did it for you!" she blurted, easily pushing away the sense of reason that screamed at her to stop. "The green dress was fine, but I wanted to be more than fine. I wanted to be…exquisite." That nagging sense reminded her yet again that he probably couldn't handle this right now. That she should wait for a more delicate time. But as much as he may not like it, she didn't think she could handle another two months of waiting. Not without going mad.

"I wanted you, not Irvine, not Nida, not Cid, not the media nor the generals to see me. _Me_. I wanted you to dance with me again. I wanted you to need me again. To want me again."

"Rinoa…" this was dangerous territory, she could tell by the way he moved to the furthest corner of the balcony and stared at the ocean with fists clenched at his sides. "I can't talk about this now. Later. When it's over."

_When is that? WHEN?! _She wanted to scream. She had been more than patient. No man had been given the lenience she had given him…no man would able to get away with kissing a woman so passionately, so readily and then refuse to talk about it _and_ refuse to let said woman out of the same building with them. It was torture. Plain and simple.

"I can't live like this Squall…" she muttered with suddenly rapid breath. "Do you even notice how close to the brink of insanity I've been? How hard this has been for me? To not only have to keep my distance but while having to live across the hall from you?"

"Its for your own protection" he rationalized angrily "I couldn't just let you walk out of here to be shot down like a dog on sight."

"You're exaggerating" she insisted, her anger increasing as she realized she wasn't going to get a response.

Exhausted, she returned to the banister and flopped her upper body over the edge so that her head could rest on the cold marble. She could feel a headache begin its steady beat within her skull, but what hurt more was the realization that she had so easily squandered her past two months of patience. If he couldn't talk about it now, her prodding had probably made him unable to talk about it for another year. She sighed with a genuine mixture of frustration and misery. Mistration, she choose to call it.

"This…this **ball**…" she put emphasis on the last word, as if it were a curse. Which it kinda was now. "What was the point of me even going? If they're gonna kill me why not just get it over with? Anything is better than this…this _waiting_."

If she had been facing his direction, she may have noticed the hand hovering above her shoulder blade, wanting desperately to comfort but not knowing how. Alas, soon enough he awkwardly withdrew, thankful that she missed the gesture.

"I thought you'd have fun" Squall answered eventually, to her surprise. "I'm sorry if you misinterpreted my intentions."

He was still guarded, but the response seemed genuine enough. "I also thought it'd be the safest way for the world leader's to meet you under our protection. Some are still insisting you be frozen you know." She sighed as her fingers traced the veins in the marble, trying to ignore the throbbing in her skull. The buzz was gone, instantly replaced with an unhealthy dose of raging self pity.

It wasn't fair.

Doing her hair, painting her nails, looking so forward to this night…it seemed so frivolous and yet it had genuinely been the most non-threatening excitement she had felt in years. He was right. It was her own fault for expecting _him_ to be considering the same; that this ball was to be a night of good ole' teenage frolic.

"Why can't…we be normal**. **For once.**"**

She altered her gaze towards the stoic man who had become her guardian, now blankly staring out into the sea.

He didn't understand. Of course he didn't. Their lives had long since stopped being what most people would call "normal", if his had ever been.

Normal 18-year-old boys didn't have hundreds of people's lives placed daily into their hands.

Normal 17-year-old girls didn't have to realistically worry about being torn from their beds in the middle of the night and burned alive by an angry mob.

Normal teenage friends didn't have to brave a dark jungle, unstable construction and have to vaporize dinosaurs in order to have a moment of peace with one another.

"We're not normal" Squall said suddenly, still avoiding eye contact and unknowingly voicing her exact thoughts.

It was a simple statement, but the tone he used was loaded it with ominous implications.

Figures. That's what she deserved for the sin of great expectations. Squall's defense of her from being frozen in space for all eternity must have suddenly become that much more complicated due to her seemingly innocent little dress switch tonight.

She wore red. The media and generals were nervous, he had told her. She had spent the night socializing with students only and eating appetizers since a full day of primping had kept her from the cafeteria. Had she somehow insulted them by frolicking with the students and not greeting them as an educated yet innocent politician? Despite her self-pledge that everything would, somehow, turn out alright, Rinoa couldn't help the panic that slowly began to invade her conscience.

"I'm sorry" she muttered through a tight throat, choosing to mirror his actions of avoidance and fix her gaze upon Garden's outer wall. "You're right. That dress…the green one. It was to protect me wasn't it? Make me look innocent to help our case?"

She heard him shift closer to her but still kept her eyes fixed ahead.

"Apology accepted" he said rigidly, explaining all she needed to know in those two words. It wasn't only the dress, this entire night was all for her sake, trying to prove how harmless she was to those who continued to picket for her demise. She knew that and still, rather stupidly and selfishly, she had ruined everything. All his valiant efforts and sleepless night for the past months…gone. And for what? Is that why he had left so early? Was it decided? Was it too late?

"So…" she began the inevitable, horrific conversation. "Have they decided?"

It took all her being to keep her voice from wavering, luckily her weight was supported by the banister or her legs may have long since buckled beneath her. There was no easy nor brave way to ask your best friend if he was going to send you to the butcher's block.

She waited a few beats but it seemed her question was to be answered with silence. Never a good sign.

"Squall? Please…"

She heard him move again, and though her eyes remained glued on the opposite wall, her view of granite was all-too-soon obscured by his eyes; eyes that stared into hers with what she translated as sympathy. He took a step closer, closing the gap between them…

Rinoa's heart jumped into her throat as she watched him approach. It was all too similar.

The stars.

The sea.

A ball.

A balcony.

She felt her eyes closing as his warm hands encased her chilled, bare shoulders, the places where they connected sending bolts of electricity down her spine. He so rarely touched her without life or death reasoning, and in those moments she didn't have time to ponder how exquisite it felt. She could only imagine how desperate he must be for her undivided attention for him to reach out it in a physical manner.

If this was to be their goodbye, she would have at least found some pleasure in it. She silently thanked him for the effort.

"It'll be fine" he whispered softly to her, mindlessly letting his hands slip further down her arms. The sensation made her shudder. "You did well tonight."

"_Well_?" she repeated incredulously, eyes still closed. She could practically already taste him. Champagne and cinnamon toothpaste. "H-How did I do well?"

"You showed up on time. You mingled. You tripped when dancing will Zell" they both let out a quiet chuckle at that memory, knowing how hard the energetic fighter had been struggling to learn to dance in order to impress his library girl crush. "And then…" he took a deep breath, moving his fingers down the length of her forearms to clasp her frozen hands "then you laughed."

"Laughed?"

"You laughed so loudly the few guests that weren't already starring couldn't help but turn their heads."

"And this…" she allowed her eyes to open to small slits, keeping his image blurred so that she didn't melt into his gaze "attributed to my 'doing well'…how?"

"You proved that you were human" he said excitedly, his hands squeezing tightly on hers. "You showed them without even trying that you have genuine friendships here."

"Well I had to make friends. I was bored out of my mind when restricted to the grounds. You try sitting in the library for more than four hours and _not_ talking to someone." Squall raised his eyebrows at this, allowing Rinoa to easily note her mistake. She shook her head with a frustrated sigh. "Well…anyone _but_ you. Obviously"

"You abstained from participating in any and all political debates" he continued.

"That's cause they're tedious. Next."

"And you didn't even notice when the camera man from the Galbadian Daily Report filmed you shoving a whole three salmon puffs in your mouth at once and then spending the next couple of minutes struggling to get the inevitable crumbs off your chest."

Rinoa bit her lip, dropping her head to stare at her shoeless feet in embarrassment. "I thought nobody saw that."

"And tomorrow it'll be all over the networks. The world will see it."

"Even the part when I…" she gestured pathetically towards the neckline of her dress, remembering the few stray flakes she had had to fish out of there manually.

Squall nodded, his lips pressed tightly together to, probably, keep from giggling like a rabid schoolboy. "Even the inappropriate digging bit, yes. That is if it's rated below PG-13."

"Grreaaattt…" she muttered sarcastically, wondering if it was indeed any better to move from feared, mighty sorceress to Garden's magic-using jester.

At that point Squall raised his fingers to catch her chin, gradually pushing it upwards to at last look him straight in the eye.

"It is great Rinoa" he whispered so softly she barely heard it, her mind having turned to flan the moment she felt his touch. "It is great."

His eyes searched hers for some recognition of this victory, but Rinoa's expression continued to show nothing but distress.

He was so close. Too close. Closer than when they were dancing. And even then the cool, cerulean color of his gaze made her soul shudder in yearning. He was just too unjustly beautiful. Over a year of seeing him, day in and day out and still, on random occasions, his appearance alone could make her knees weak and her blood hot.

"Sooo…" she stuttered, willing her body to take a step back out of his reach but her heart unwilling to break a contact that was so rare and precious. "Is it over?"

Squall dropped his fingers from her chin, avoided her gaze with a sigh of frustration. Rinoa could deduce her own conclusions from his expression alone.

"Let me guess. As harmless as I seem, people still aren't exactly… 'comfortable' with me yet. Am I right?"

"Replace 'comfortable' with 'reluctantly accepting' and you're getting there." He mumbled, sounding almost as disappointed as she felt. This gave her some solace.

"And, as part of the agreement I'm sure you've all cooked up to keep me docile, they don't really want me hanging around you so much. Right?"

"It adds to their trepidation, understandably" he admitted begrudgingly.

Rinoa nodded in an attempt to seem professional, though inside she felt her heart begin to crack.

"I understand," she struggled to speak through her tight throat, her dark brown eyes already filling with tears to her horror. "I don't want anyone at Garden, especially you, to suffer on my account. I-I'll go back to Deling for a while, get on my feet. Find a job somewhere. It-it'll be hard but…"

"No." Squall interrupted, catching her arm as she turned to walk away.

"Please…" she begged, tugging with all her might but he didn't relent. "I-I don't…can't really be around you right now."

"Rinoa, seriously" he chided. "Do you really think I'd let the opinions of some middle-aged fat politicians who know less about war than the 6-year-old students here influence a decision that big?"

Deciding that "yes" may be too insensitive an answer, Rinoa merely shrugged, slowly turning back to face him as he prepared to explain.

"There's still a lot of work to be done" he muttered softly, his somber expression telling her how exhausting he found the situation. "The new government is still not approved by all. I'm in charge, as an objective party, of forming a World Consul of ambassadors and leaders to make these decisions through a new democratic system."

"A democratic system!" Rinoa exclaimed, her fear of loosing her home suddenly vanished to be replaced by delight. "Does…does that mean that small towns like Timber will be able to have legitimately voted leaders?"

Squall nodded, equally if not more excited – though the only thing showing it was the brightness of his eyes. "And they will have an equal voice as the big cities for decisions that effect world regulations. Which will include, if voted for by the people of course, the potential for all realms administered by military force to have the option of becoming independent city-states."

"You could also pass laws to keep it that way" Rinoa added, her voice unnaturally high with exhilaration.

"Well, obviously" Squall chastised lightly, smirking at his friend's apparent inexperience in political matters. "Its not written in stone until the first session but, it goes without saying, that regulations would be put in place so that any offending party will have military pressure put upon them by the other Consul states."

Rinoa winced at this, shaking her head exaggerated disapproval. "That leaves too much up to the honor system. Not to mention, organizing a dozen or so smaller armies to fight a specific, fluid large one seems rather messy. And what if alliances are made between two large states? They could overpower the rest of the Consul. What if…"

"As I said" he interrupted, smirking slightly at her enthusiasm "nothing's written in stone yet. The exact regulations will be drawn up at the first gathering a month from now with the help of lawyers and the wisdom of those with experience."

"Pfft…" she scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. "Just because their old doesn't make them wise. Let the jury note that none of their past efforts had worked out very well. Especially Esthar's 'let's just put a force field around the city and hope nobody bothers us' scheme."

"The universal regulations will be designed to cater to everyone's interests. My current contract is to come up with suggestions between now and the summit."

"Ohhh…so you're gonna invent regulations that will cater to _everyone's_ interest eh? The Galbadian coalition, the small independent cities, the Moomba slaves, the Shumi shut-ins, the Estharian greedies who refuse to share their technology…they'll all be happy with whatever you come up with?"

"I didn't say it would be easy…" Squall shifted uncomfortably, for the first time recognizing the immensity of the task people had so casually thrust upon him a few hours earlier. "Quite the opposite actually. I think it'll take months, maybe even a year before anything gets settled. Before anyone here can even consider taking a rest."

"And what about the Gardens?"

"What about them?"

"Once these laws are perfected and agreed upon by all. In theory, this will lead to perpetual peace, am I right?"

"That is the goal."

"So…the three Gardens and the White Ship. They're gonna just float around for centuries until Ultimecia shows up? You'll have A rank military genius SeeDs such as yourself doing odd extermination jobs to keep the students here fed?"

"We'll get by," he said sternly, with much more confidence than he actually felt. "My primary concern is the stability of this world's peace terms, not Garden's bank account."

"But if Garden doesn't survive, there will be nobody to fight in what we know is the bleak future run by a one woman army."

Squall sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair and down his face as he tried to mentally compile a list of all the fun consequences the consul would inevitably see when he presented his recommendations in a month's time. He had to cover every angle, she was right. But it was getting more and more complicated by the second and he honestly didn't know if he could keep it up by himself.

"What would you do then?" he asked in a challenging tone, daring her to come up with something better like she apparently expected him to do.

"Me?" Rinoa repeated incredulously. "Why do you want to know what I'd do?"

"I'm a soldier, not a politician" Squall admitted sadly. "This position was thrust into my lap and, honestly, I don't think I'm nearly qualified enough to handle it."

"So that would make me _severely_ unqualified to even suggest anything…I failed grade 9 economics, the pre-cursor to political science 101. It was really sad. Even the dyslexic junkie got a C-."

"But I know you…you have ideas."

"Everyone has _ideas_ Squall. Why, just yesterday Selphie came up with the idea of decorating the Quad with streamers of cotton candy for the Garden Festival. By your logic, her and her inevitable army of flies should be able to help you."

"You know what I mean. You're…emotional."

He could tell he said something wrong by the way Rinoa's jaw dropped and her arms slowly, maliciously, rose to cross against her chest. Yet again he had said something of the apparent highest level of sexist insults and had no idea how. The most random things could set her off some times. And though he was still far from the discovering the pattern of _what_ he was far advanced in the defensive aftermath.

"That's not what I meant." He repeated, but Rinoa remained unmoved.

"Yes it is. That's exactly what you meant." Her tone shuddered in anger.

"Not in the way you're thinking. I'm saying you think with your heart, you want to take care of everybody, and therefore can grasp a better picture. I just automatically move to whatever gets the job done easiest." Her scowled eased at that explanation. Where once silence was his answer to everything, to satiate Rinoa he quickly discovered that talking was his only option if he wanted to avoid angry moping, glaring and torrential spitballs. "You couldn't have thought you were that bad if you were confident enough run a resistance group."

"That was Timber. Tiny, angry, easy Timber. Not the World." Her arms dropped to her sides as a sign of being overwhelmed. "And I had a team. And, let's face it; my plan was to pretty much give Deling a stern talking to after going through all the trouble to kidnap him. A method I have since learnt wouldn't be that successful. And…"

"Rinoa…"

"And the bracelet with Edea. What was I thinking? I'm the _last _person who should have anything to do with military planni-"

"Rinoa!" He took her hands again. A method, though risky considering their recent moment, was the only guarantee of getting her attention.

True to form, her words died in on lips as her eyes focused on his.

"I'm asking…for your help" he said softly, while tightening his grip. She stared at him, for the second time that night, with dark eyes filled with longing – a gaze he could barely keep yet couldn't look away from.

"Please. Tell me what you think. It doesn't have to be complicated yet. We'll work on it. But, if you have any solution that you honestly think would help in the long run, I'd like to hear it."

Rinoa took a deep breath, biting back to urge to tease him about admitting to faults, about finally letting someone bear the burden with him. But the urge was lost in her desperation to get her ideas out, and to not lose his interest. This was a rare moment indeed, and she'd never forgive herself if she squandered it on chitchat.

"The World Consul could have its own SeeD military backing, no longer controlled by the highest bidder but funded through a small tax percentage contributed in even population ratios from each of the city/states. The three Gardens and the White SeeDs could act as the World Army, rotating positions to keep the peace and always be on call. They would respond only to decisions from the majority of the Consul itself, filtered through an additional committee of objective administrative SeeDs from each of the establishments."

Squall eyed her suspiciously, silently kicking himself for not having thought of something similar. But, of course, there were some obvious kinks. "What makes you think the Consul would go for that?" he asked sternly. "Asking them to raise taxes could and probably will cause problems. And don't you find it dangerous to limit SeeDs loyalties?"

Rinoa hastily shook her head. "Don't you see? For our own interests, this would keep Garden financially afloat in times of peace and ready for the inevitable battle in the future. We could keep busy enforcing the policies if necessary, being the go between of the states, while continuing to educate and give skills to those orphaned during the war. And taxes wouldn't have to be raised. This is the WORLD we're taking about. When you do the math 0.02% of sales tax should be enough to keep the Gardens going plus include emergency funding for weapon upgrades and maintenance, but don't quote me on that. I don't think any of us really plan to be millionaires and a modest salary will keep us honest. And it shouldn't be a big sacrifice since the existence of the counsel already lowers a lot of the overblown budgets like the Galbadian military and ridiculous defenses like that Estharian mirage wall." Rinoa rolled her eyes. "Do you know how much energy powering that thing must waste? At least…"

"Get over the mirage wall" Squall prompted. "Continue."

"Anyway, it's a small price to pay to have one unified army at the beck and call of any state that needs the helps, as long as the majority Consul approves. It will keep those over ambitious leaders from pushing their boundaries, reduce the waste cost of having individual large armies, ensure that the smaller towns won't be overpowered by force ever again and nearly guarantees peace."

"It bars expansion though…something I know many people won't be happy with."

"Anyone who's serious about long lasting peace will sign it. And since you mentioned that small towns would have an equal voice to the big cities, a majority win shouldn't be that difficult to get, as long as you promote the idea properly. We'll also know to keep an eye on those nay sayers."

"Votes are anonymous."

"Well fine, we won't know. But I can already foresee Esthar and Galbadia's leaders having issues with it. They're the big fish. We'll have to give both of them some special attention. You can take Laguna and I can handle Carraway…if he ever wants to talk to me again he'll back this up with all his might or I'll…"

"No blackmailing."

"But!"

"Rin…" he narrowed his eyes at her and she bit her lip in an attempt to hold back. She knew that when he summarized her name like that, he meant business.

"Fine. But we can…we…"she paused, choking on the forbidden word yet again. The 'we' that got her into this mess of a conversation. He was the commander. He was the one appointed to come up with the policies. And, in a moment of panic, had merely asked her opinion. Regardless of the convincing she was sure she could work on Carraway, it really wasn't her place to. The thought of them loosing the vote because of Squall's lack of social skills boiled her brain but, in the end, what choice did she have?

"I mean you" she reiterated, making a point to gesture towards him. "You could always-"

"We" Squall interrupted suddenly. "_We_ will draft the policies. _We_ will collect the signatures. _We_ will present to the World Consul. We will fix this world."

"But Squall…they don't trust me. They don't even want me alive let alone have any power. I don't think it's a good idea."

"Rinoa please. I…You're" he swallowed, taking a deep breath before saying the words that may very well damn him to hell or worse, cost him his job. "Stay here. At Garden. Please. You-you can be my assistant."

"Squall…" he was doing the very thing the council feared, letting their odd and indefinable attachment to each other overrule his logic. "Think seriously. It wouldn't work! Nobody will let this-"

"I'll figure it out. Cid will understand. He knows, better than anyone, how…how much…" he pressed his lips together, unable to properly voice his thoughts without sounding cheesy. He took a breath to compose himself.

"**I** need you. Okay? You're my best friend."

Rinoa blinked, half expecting to wake up and find this entire conversation to be a daydream or semi-drunken hallucination. For didn't best friends share their thoughts, not glean random facts? Didn't they sometimes braid each other's hair, not fear the slightest touch to be deemed inappropriate? Didn't they have sleepovers, not secret ten minute rendezvous on unstable infrastructure?

"Really?" It sounded a lot more skeptical than she meant it to. "Sorry, I mean…Really?" this time she added a hopeful intonation.

Squall paused, chin tilted in the typical pondering pose. "Actually, now that I think about it, no."

"No?" he had to be the most indecisive of any man she had ever met. "Is it my turn yet to give _you _a title, Mr.-?"

"Rinoa" he interrupted while taking a quick step closer, almost obliterating any distance between them. Her insult of course floated somewhere irretrievable in her mind as a result of his proximity, but the initial annoyance hadn't.

"What?" she snapped, looking up at him and realizing for the first time how tall he was without her usual heels. Her head was in perfect line with his pectorals, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on glaring at him and refrain from ripping open his fitted, button-down shirt just to see what was underneath. It was a definite conflict of interests to be so attracted to someone who you also wanted to knee in the groin.

"What?" she repeated after too long a beat of silence.

Squall licked his lips; a simple gesture that made her stomach clench and the anger to yield slightly to some other, inappropriate emotion. Damn it.

"You look good" he said finally, leaning forward to give her a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek before moving back.

Rinoa couldn't believe it. Her eyes widened as her hand whipped up to feel the spot on her cheek that his lips had touched.

Was he kidding? Was he _teasing_ her?

"You look good?" she repeated incredulously. "That's it?"

"Well I was going to say "wow" to correspond to our earlier conversation, but it just seemed to be a little too far fetched. Agreed?"

"Ye--Yeah." She stuttered helplessly, still in a strange state of frustrated awe. "Probably would have freaked me out a little bit, hearing a typical Irvine exclamation coming from your mouth."

"I figured" he smirked again, and once more Rinoa felt immense pride at being the only one who could spur that from him. "But the dress…don't worry about it. It's…nice."

"Nice eh?" she peered down the length of her body, taking in the strapless red corset and yards of glistening fabric with her hands. "You sure it doesn't make me look fat? Or like I have future plots to destroy the nations in a bloodthirsty quest for world domination?"

"No. Your plots obviously involve dominating only the ballroom with your…aura of…" he struggled to find a word, revolving his wrist in circles for inspiration.

"Aura of…exquisiteness?" Rinoa prompted, giggling at his horrid stab at being charming.

He sighed "I should never attempt that again, should I?"

Rinoa shook her head, still giggling. "I say leave the cheesy line invention to Irvine."

"Gladly. Shall we?"

He offered his arm to Rinoa, and she cheerfully accepted …even knowing that the moment they entered the corridor he would gently push her away. Knowing that upon returning to the party, his smiles would disappear as he forced himself to mingle with the important guests and knowing that she, once again, would be left hanging by the wall. Surrounded by friends, and yet still feeling so very alone.

She would survive. She always did.

This was their life. But she was confident in believing that it wouldn't always be that way. Just until the media surrounding them died down, the complicated mess of the governments was untangled and she proved that she was no threat to modern civilization and Squall proved that he functioned independently of her whims, even if he did follow through on the hasty decision to make her his assistant.

Soon.

She leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked through the training center, he having automatically junctioned his no encounter ability to give them a little peace, savoring these final moments.

So it was to go a little more slowly than she would have liked. But soon, she had no doubt, he would succumb again. And when he did, it would be the beginning of something magical.

Soon.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'M ALIVE. Not only that, but after writing this chapter it came out to _34_ pages in word! I had no choice but to cut out the second scene. But, the good news is that the next chapter is all ready written and edited! People just need to digest the things that happen here, in the past, first. Many little things correspond to events in the next scene where she visits him, injured and delusional, on the ship.

So, not my best work, but I'm glad to update this story finally. Remember, in chapter 1 I noted that I had 7 chapters written of this story already? It's still true. I've just been trying to fix/shorten this one for SIXTEEN MONTHS. I just decided to give up and move on today. I have ideas that I can't wait to write but I need to get out all this background stuff first to explain what led to the current, awkward situation.

Please review. It does inspire me. I'm still working on fixing up/explaining the many comments of O.O.C. Squall, which has been a good challenge. Keep it up. New chapter comes out faster depending on how many reviews I get. And it breaks my heart when I see how many people favorite me and don't review .

Oh, and happy new year everyone!


	6. Broken

"_The worst is over now and we can breathe again  
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away  
There__'__s so much left to learn, and no one left to fight  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain__'__cause I__'__m broken when I__'__m open  
And I don__'__t feel like I am strong enough  
'cause I__'__m broken when I__'__m lonesome  
And I don__'__t feel right when you__'__re gone away__." _

**-- Seether feat. Amy Lee «Broken » **

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 6: …_Broken_ …

He breathed in. Breathed out. Inhale, Exhale. Concentrating on those actions and those actions alone.

_Nothing else exists. _

_Nothing else matters. _

_Just breathe. Eventually, soon, you'll be home. And it'll all be over. _

It was an old, rather elementary exercise of dealing with pain. But it was the only thing he had the current brain capacity to handle.

No chanting sutras.

No praying.

No knocking one's self unconscious.

No Hyne-damned, much-needed-yet-conveniently-unavailable-after-pissing-off-his-superiors narcotics to smooth out the rough, sharp edges.

Stabbing, piercing, mind-numbingly painful edges. Hyne it hurt…

Squall's eyes shot open, pulling him out of his lame attempt at meditating with a grunt of discomfort. Who was he kidding? Nothing short of a heavy dose of morphine or a strong blow to the head would be able to give him the slightest sense of relief. And there was no point in pretending that breathing loudly would make any such difference.

And so he lay there, motionless in one of the most uncomfortable beds he had ever had the displeasure of occupying, counting down the seconds. Waiting for the loud roar of the engines starting that would signify their departure towards Balamb Garden, now dubbed by Squall as 'the merciful place with the drugs'.

With a sigh, the Commander flung an arm across his face, shielding his overly sensitive eyes from the blinding florescent lights while still giving him enough of a view to distract himself by surveying the room.

_'What the hell is taking them so long…?'_ he wondered angrily, swallowing a yelp as a fresh wave of pain flowed through his body, settling to enhance the dull, aching throb in his thigh.

Quistis probably gave them specific instructions to dawdle. He wouldn't be surprised. Obviously, she was none to happy with him at the moment. She would probably be there on the landing pad when they arrived, at the ready to cuss him out for disobedience.

Whatever.

He could care less at the moment. He had greater priorities than humoring Headmistress Trepe, along with greater problems.

_Rinoa_…

He quietly groaned, this time in a different sort of pain.

She was pissed. She was often pissed at him lately for something he did or did not do. For failing to follow through with an expected gesture on her birthday. For pushing her to the limit of exhaustion when training. Even once for making the coffee too light, she preferring a substance closer to tar for some reason. But all those times he'd just shrug and she'd roll her eyes, shake her head and move on. That was the end of it. They were all stupid arguments anyway, nothing really earth-shattering, and he appreciated her patience with his somewhat insensitive gestures as he, in turn, tried not to get too annoyed by her constant probing.

In the end, it all came down to one fact: she had stayed. So few people could deal with him for more than ten minutes, and she had lasted an entire year in his service, and several months before that traveling the world to solve the Ultimecia affair. Despite everything, all his callousness and mood swings and being stressed out of his mind. She'd been there, whether to force a hot dog down his throat when he forgot to eat or place a blanket over his shoulders when he fell asleep at the desk.

He'd ignore these gestures of course, pretend to be beyond annoyed as she tried to 'airplane' feed him a third, disgusting hot dog with a beautifully wide smile gracing her delicate features, dark eyes dancing with amusement. But, secretly, he cherished their time together in that office. He was content, set into a placid routine where everything was organized, proud at being one of the main keepers of peace on the planet, satisfied with doing his job well and keeping Rinoa safe.

This was the life he had imagined for himself since he was introduced to Garden at the ripe ole' age of five. He had earned one of the highest military ranks before turning twenty, had fought bravely and was victorious in the war that shaped his generation and, on an unexpected but not at all unappreciated tangent, he had also become legendary Knight to the last living sorceress. Life was satisfactory. If someone had told him at age five that this was to be his future, Squall would have deemed it too good to be possibly true. This, what he was living as now, was the military definition of bliss…except for the present issue of being shot of course.

It would be completely ludicrous to wish for more; to wish for something to change…Squall was completely aware of this. What he had now was more than any other orphan cadet could ever expect.

And yet…

A knock sounded at the door. And no matter how gently or lightly it was attempted, the sound reverberated in his skull as if someone had clashed giant cymbals right next to his ears. The groan of discomfort that fell out of his lips then was involuntary, as was the rough cry of pain that followed after he attempted to turn away from the sound, putting pressure on his injured leg. Everything went fuzzy after that.

"Squall?..."

_Speaking of the devil. _

Rinoa flew into the small room the instant she heard him shout. In a few careful movements, she had him righted again, his head placed gently back on the pillow he had earlier thrown across the room in frustration and his leg propped up on a series of folded blankets.

He wanted to thank her, but it wouldn't come out. Opening his mouth was at the risk of vomiting. Instead he just put enough effort into raising the corner of his lip and blinking slowly. A gesture he hoped her blurry silhouette understood. He couldn't even tell if she was looking at him or not. He sniggered inaudibly. It was kinda funny for some reason.

"You shouldn't be moving." She warned him, reaching over grab another pillow from the stock under the bed, pumping it hard to dislodge the clumped feathers before placing it behind his head.

'_Obviously'_ he wanted to say, but couldn't find the physical strength, nor the moral will to insult someone who was trying so hard to take care of him.

Rinoa scrutinized the room, taking in every detail of what Kayle had nicely prepared for Squall's arrival and searched for anything else she could do to keep her hands busy, to help. Two long sticks of wood had been strapped to either side of his leg as a makeshift splint, confirming her theory that the bullet had also hit bone, and a few moistened cloths soaked with blood were thrown in the sink along with what was once the right leg of his pants.

She approached the counter, blasted on the faucets and automatically started rising; violently wringing and pulling at the cloth until the bright red turned a dull pink swirling down the drain. As if washing away the results could undo her stupid, stupid mistake and allow them to start fresh – clean and bleach white.

Alas, the pink was there to stay it seemed. She took a long, deep sniff to erase any trace of emotion before aggressively tossing the ruined cloths into the trash.

"So…Squall," she began timidly with her back still to him, desperately trying to push aside any guilt and focus on the task at hand. Before they landed at Garden she needed to get this out. Before the cycle of morphine, surgery, sleep and work began, condemning her to another year of nothingness. "Squall I…"

"_Sssss,_" a loud wince interrupted what could have been the beginning of the rest of her life. The sound was so desperate, so heart wrenching that she couldn't help but bolt to his side, forgetting every line she had spent minutes preparing outside his door. Her hand instinctively grasped his, holding as tight as she could.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked in a panicked, high voice. Maybe Kayle's crappy, temporary stitches had some loose. Maybe a shard of the bullet had entered his blood stream and was traveling through his body, tearing up everything in its path. Maybe _he_ was telepathic, had deduced what she was going to say, and was succeeding in distracting her. Her grasp loosened at this thought. But something in his face, more pale and anguished than she had ever seen, instantly confirmed that the expression was indeed the result of genuine and intense pain.

"_Hyne dammit_!" he swore quietly, lifting himself up from the pillows with eyes clenched shut.

She looked to his lap and saw the bright red spots begin to appear beneath layers of gauss wrapped around his thigh. Their surface area increased as his knees unwillingly bent and flexed the muscles.

"I said you shouldn't move!" Rinoa insisted heatedly, trying and failing to push him back into the pillows. "You're tearing your stitches."

"Screw my stitches…" he gripped her hand harder, still bending further forward.

Rinoa couldn't help but roll eyes. Leave it to Squall's lack of tact to turn any of a kaleidoscope of sorrowful emotions into simple frustrated anger. Yes, she had shot him. But his inability to sit still was what would lead to a _serious _injury.

"Men are such babies…" she muttered, still trying to push him back, grumbling when he refused to move. "What are you, having a contraction?"

"Bring me a woman in labor…and…I'll…challenge her to which is worse." Another wave of pain hit and, despite Rinoa's best efforts he doubled over, forehead touching his knees.

"Worse than labor? Do you seriously want to have that debate with me right now? Cause you know I'll illustrate the exact differences."

"Not that you'll ever know," he countered in a mumble.

The hand that had been grasping his so readily suddenly went limp. It took a couple of beats before the pain subsided and he realized what he had said.

Slowly, carefully, Squall unfurled and placed himself back into the pillows. When he finally met her eyes she was staring at him with unabashed horror, her mouth slightly open and her eyes glistening and wide.

As he had several subjects he expected her not to touch, Rinoa had one. Only one. And it wasn't a difficult one to avoid. Sorceress infertility didn't exactly pop up in everyday conversation. Especially at only 18 and single.

The pain was his only excuse, but still he knew it wasn't one she would accept.

With an apologetic sigh he gestured to his bandaged thigh.

"We're even?" he tried.

Rinoa lifted her chin, eyes narrowed, gauging whether the exchange of a bullet was worthy of such an inexcusable, below-the-belt insult. It had suddenly become a blessing that she had been interrupted from her confession of adoration and the relationship or leave ultimatum. Her 'ultifession', she would refer to it from now on. How could it have slipped her mind that, recently at least, he was a total worse-than meany. He was, lets face it, an utter _asshole_.

"Rinoa?" Squall asked as a prompt, his voice still out of breath from the attack and, perhaps, fear of her pending reaction. "I think it's a more than fair trade?"

The dark eyes that had wondered off in thought came whipping back to glare at him.

"I need to reword my Ultifession," she told him simply, before jumping to her feet, stomping across the room and sitting on a pile of folded blankets. She watched him through slit-closed eyes, her lips moving wordlessly as she reformatted her speech.

Squall averted his gaze toward the metal ceiling planks, knowing it was never a good sign when Rinoa started making up words.

A few seconds later, it assaulted his nerves again. But this time, to the best of his ability, he tried to stay horizontal. It wouldn't have surprised him if Rinoa would throw a lamp at his head, adding a concussion to his list of injuries, if he dared to bend.

"I thought you said it didn't hurt," he heard her say condescendingly from beyond his clenched eyes. "Back at the orphanage you said you were fin-"

"I lied…" he confessed hastily, really _really_ not in the mood to deal with her teasing.

Bullets were funny things. They are such small, insignificant pieces of metal and powder that he handled daily. He had even been hit by a few and often felt the searing sting of them ripping into his flesh. But never for this long. There was always a cure spell, a medic, morphine etc. right on hand. The knowledge of impending relief mixed with the adrenaline of the battle had always made the pain a side note; a status to be removed. Who knew that it could lead to this. He actually wished the injury was more serious, like Edea's ice shards. Not enough to kill him if he received proper emergency care, but enough to make him lose consciousness at the very least.

Another, overlapping wave. He felt the sponge of the cheap mattress crumble to pieces between his fingers as he clenched with all his might.

It was too much, he couldn't handle it. He wasn't strong enough. Squall let his head flop sideways to bring the nightstand into view, squinting to find the water bottle Kayle had offered as a last resort to relief.

Forgetting about Rinoa's scrutiny, forgetting about his stitches, unable to concentrate on anything but the agony, Squall turned and reached for it. Unsurprisingly, that made it worse.

"**Ahhgg**!"

"I'm coming. I'm coming." Through the haze he heard her footsteps approaching. In a blurry blink she was there, sitting beside him, guiding the opening of the bottle towards his lips. As reason had left him, so had pride. He drank desperately, completely oblivious to the vile taste or the fact that he was letting Rinoa, the sometimes blight of his existence, cradle his head and bottle feed him.

But now was not the time to be embarrassed. He was already missing 2/5ths of his pants anyhow. It didn't get much worse than that.

In a few gulps, he had consumed the very last drop and a pleasant numbness settled throughout his brain.

The relief was exquisite. Better than…he couldn't even think of anything more pleasurable.

"You want more?" Rinoa asked, her voice now warm and pleasant – the result, he was sure, of finally letting her touch him. It was disconcerting how easy she was to satiate.

"Yes…please." His tongue felt rough and thick, but that was the worst of it. He watched Rinoa walk the bottle to the sink.

"You're forgiven by the way," she told him from over her shoulder, shouting to be heard over the running water.

He winced at the noise, letting his eyelids flutter closed as a sudden exhaustion gripped him.

"Good," he mumbled before tossing his head back rightly on the pillows. Never had cheap, old foam felt so comfortable.

"I mean, I know I told you I never wanted to talk about it. _Ever_. But, you're a little off I guess. And I did shoot you. But that was an accident."

"Accidents. Bad."

Rinoa closed the faucet when the bottle was full and resumed her post sitting on the edge of the cot. She offered him the water but he awkwardly waved it away. So, with a shrug, it was recapped and replaced on the nightstand.

She then took a moment to scan him over from head to toe, taking in the bare, toned calf which led to a gauss wrapped upper thigh, just barely topped off with flaps of leather cut open but left attached for modesty. It was nice of Kayle to think of keeping the semblance of pants, but it in fact did nothing to hide the edges of the navy blue, SeeD emblazoned under-shorts.

Rinoa didn't know whether to giggle or cringe. Did every article of clothing he owned come from some secret SeeD catalogue? She wondered what else he had with the logo on it, and if the shorts came in any other color. For men or not, they'd look really cute with the right tank-

"Stop staring at me."

Rinoa whipped her head back up at his face, brows furrowing when she noted his eyes were still closed and a bare arm was also now draped over his temple.

"How do you know I'm staring at you?"

"You're quiet. You're only quiet when you're staring. It's creepy."

"It's just…" Rinoa let her eyes wander back down the length of his exposed, injured limb. "You know I've never seen your legs before? I don't think I've ever seen your arms either," she brought her gaze back up to survey the limb across his forehead, proudly noting the muscular shape formed through long years of toting one of the heaviest manual weapons in existence. "You're always wearing pants with a bajillion belts and jackets or blazers or plastic parkas."

"That was once. It was raining. I was desperate," he reminded her.

"I know, I know. But what's up with that?"

"With what?"

"The pants, the belts, the blazers, the jackets, the parka?"

"I don't tan well."

Rinoa scoffed. "Like you ever go outside nowadays. And it gets boiling sometimes with all the windows in our office so don't give me the 'its cold' excuse."

A shrug seemed to be the only response she would be getting. But a quick jab in the ribs through only his flimsy white v-neck was enough of a prompt.

"I-I don't know," he replied as honestly and concisely as possible. "I guess- I guess…its armor."

"Ahh," Rinoa nodded knowingly. "So you admit to wearing armor to keep those who may want to get close to you at bay?"

"No. Like, actual armor. Leather. Makes it easier to take hits wit-without losing skin."

"Oh…" There went her brilliant plan to segway from his emotional bankruptcy to why she needed to be more than friends. But at least he seemed to be coherently following the conversation. At least his pain seemed to have ebbed. In the distance she heard the mechanical whirr of bay doors closing, starting the countdown of the sixty minutes it would take to fly back to Garden.

_Now or never…_

She dared to give his body one last scan, elated by the knowledge that if things changed, if he happened to decide to change them, it wouldn't take much for the months of disappointment and other emotional abuses to melt away. Despite everything that had happened today and the many other days where she wanted to smash his head into a wall, Squall was still her Knight. Squall was still the man that would smile only for her. Squall was the one who worked so hard to get her into Garden's administration and accepted by the World Consul.

Not to mention, the innocent visual of his uncovered limbs had brought back certain memories – the night they had first met for example; when he was the best looking guy at the ball that she simply had to have dance with her. And that was before she had caught any glimpses of what was underneath the thick wool SeeD uniform.

He hadn't changed much since then. Two years made his hair a bit longer, intense training resulted in a slightly larger frame and the lack of travel had lighten his skin to an almost ceramic, smooth and cool beige. The infamous, angry scar between his brows had since faded to a thin, pink ridge; the only imperfection to an otherwise ideal face. Actually, the scar was probably what made his face perfect.

'_Hyne you're beautiful'_ she whispered in her own head, paranoid of any potential remaining strands to their telepathic link. Though Squall must already know that she found him attractive (she did turn into a blubbering mess if he stood too close), she would be mortified for him to discover the extent of how much. She was a woman after all, closer to nineteen than eighteen. A woman would have to be dead to not notice Squall Leonhart. But seeing him day in, day out, sometimes spending hours by his side editing contracts or training and having to just watch how his skilled hands moved…she would arrive in her dorm some nights nearly crying in frustration.

Thankfully, in one way or another, that problem was about to be solved. Either he'd agree to be with her fully, in every sense of the word, or she at least wouldn't have to see him ever again – never have to feel that desperate need to have his lips on hers again, or experience those nights alone, in the dark, praying that temporary insanity may lead him to knock on her door and spend the night.

"So…um, Squall…" the mad blushing had already begun as she watched, riveted, the simple action of his knee bending involuntarily – the gleam from the florescent lights showcasing how taut the sweat-slicked skin was over the pure, smooth muscle. For the millionth time she hoped against all hope that he'd chose alternative A of her Ultifession.

She swallowed.

"Squall, it's been a year now since the defeat of Ultimecia. Garden is looked after, the Consul is organized and we've pretty much earned a giant gold star for a job well done, don't you think?"

"Giant stars? Mmm," he repeated wearily. She moved on, refusing to be diverted.

"I know we've had our issues. I know we've seriously considered maiming each other on several occasions. But that was all the stress! I've let it go! All except the telling Nida I liked him and I'm just shy thing, I'm still bidding my time to get you back for that one, but otherwise," she slapped her hands together in front of his face "clean slate! It's all over and done with. We'll start fresh. You agree?"

"Rinoa…?" Squall moaned softly, all traces of tiredness having vanished.

"Let me finish, please. I need to finish. So, I'm recommending-"

"Rinoa…" he interrupted again, his voice now sounding thick and strained.

"What Squall?! What do you need? What is so damn important that it can't…" she then bothered to look at him, and couldn't help but note that he seemed to have paled a couple of shades in what seemed like seconds. His eyes were wide open now, bloodshot and desperate. Instantly, she had leapt off the mattress and knelt by his side, one hand slapped against his forehead. It felt more than hot, it was blazing.

"Squall, what's--"

He closed his eyes and raised a finger, asking for her silence for one more minute as he strained to get a hold of his racing thoughts. "I think – No, I'm pretty sure…I'm going to be sick."

"Oh. Oh! Umm, let me see." Rinoa stood and scanned the room desperately, keeping half an eye on the slow moving Squall as he strained to turn himself on his side, one sweat-soaked arm gripping the edge of the bed for leverage to pull himself half over the edge.

The room was so Spartan that there were very few options in what was useable for this type of job. A bowl? No, too small. Uh, the sink? Too far. The garbage can? Yes! The garbage can!

A short dash towards the desk later and she had the steel cylinder clamped in her hands, sprinting back towards the bed just in time to catch the first wave as Squall flung himself gracelessly over the edge of the cot, emptying the pitiful contents of his stomach into the waste bucket.

Rinoa grimaced and turned her head away, not knowing whether to keep the basket in her hands or set it on the floor. She opted for the latter as Squall grabbed it in his own hands and unsteadily lowered himself more deeply into it, threatening to topple to whole load on her knees.

"Oh…oh for the love of-" She shuffled backwards on her knees. "Okay. I'm setting on the floor, k? Squall? It's going on the floor."

He gave he gave her a weak nod, face still firmly hidden beyond the rim. Another ten seconds and he was retching again just as the bin touched the ground.

"Oh Hyne, this is gross…" she shuddered while reaching forward brush his long bangs away from his forehead. "This is so very gross."

"It's not that fun for me eith-…" his weak, echoing response was interrupted by yet another attack of heaving bile.

Delirious or not she could tell he was embarrassed, trying to wave her away several times yet not daring to ever look up, his face planted firmly in the garbage can. Disgusting and awkward as it was, Rinoa played her role of colleague and friend very well, rubbing his sweat-soaked back in what she hoped was a comforting manner, and dutifully brushing back his hair as she felt the tell-tale convulsion of a new onslaught, chanting in his ear in a desperate whisper _"its okay Squall. It's going to be okay."_

The funny part was, even though he was currently in the most disgusting state she had ever seen a man in, her eyes couldn't help but wander over his smooth neck and back - the sweat having made the white t-shirt fabric nearly transparent and clingy. She bit her lip and allowed herself one lower-than-normal back rub before returning her complete attention to consoling him.

He threw up for what must have been a solid ten minutes, Rinoa never leaving his side even though he more than once tried to push her away, unable to speak yet showing in actions that he would be screaming for her exit if he could. Eventually he calmed down though, submitting to her attempts at support and giving her a meager thumbs-up every time she asked if he felt better.

After Squall had stopped being sick for at least five minutes yet still refused to remove himself from the basket, Rinoa heard the Ragnarok engines growl to life. She let out a loud sigh of relief and fell back onto her knees, wiping away the sweat that had collected on her own brow from sheer nervousness.

They were going home. Finally. Squall would get better. All would be well.

"You hear that Squall? We're moving! We'll be in Garden soon!"

For a minute, silence. And then finally a weak "…yay", echoing from inside the waste bucket.

"Awww….poor Squall" she gave him a brief and awkward neck hug from their opposing orientations and decided then and there that the Ultifession would have to be put off yet again. Not because she was scared, not because he wouldn't pay attention, but because she loved him too much.

And loving someone, more often than not, led to putting their comfort above your desires.

Later. Tomorrow. Soon it would happen. But not now, not tonight.

Squall had long since lost the strength to hold himself up above the garbage pail and instead opted to lean his forehead on the opposite tin ledge, letting his arms dangle on either side, half his torso off the cot, his white T-shirt now completely soaked through.

"You wanna lay down now?" the good assistant offered, already positioning herself to lift him back up. But Squall only shook his head, making her worry that he may loose balance and fall into the bucket of his own vomit. Definitely not an appealing prospect.

"Come on. I think you've puked all you could possibly puke, including your intestines. Possibly your lungs."

"But my heart's still in there." He mumbled, raising one arm to meekly hit his own chest. "I can feel it. Gotta get that out. Sneaky bastard…"

"Come on Squall. Get up!" she pretended to try to lift him, hoping that he would follow along suit and with a bit of luck not dunk his precariously balanced head into the bucket of grossness. But alas, he wouldn't budge.

"Oh, come on!"

"Say please."

"PLEASE!"

"…no."

Rinoa fell to her knees beside him with a grunt of annoyance, taking the opportunity to fiddle with his hair while knowing that he hadn't the energy to even protest let alone physically stop her. He acknowledged her touch with a grunt of disapproval, but beyond that, nothing. Bored, she began to braid the long strands, knowing that if he recognized the pattern, he would surely be forced into some form of defiant action. "All I want is for you to adopt a more comfortable position."

"This is comfortable."

She rolled her eyes, finishing one braid at the nape of his neck and moving on to another. "Yeah right."

"Don't knock it till you try…" he paused for a moment, taking in the odd sensation of his hair being pulled and twisted in some kind of methodical process. He turned then, only his head along the rim of the basket, bloodshot blue eyes scrutinizing what he little could see of her as she leaned over him. "….what _are_ you doing?"

She shrugged innocently. "Making you pretty."

With a groan of utter vexation, Squall announced that he was getting up, trying to ignore Rinoa's evil grin of triumph as she moved into position to help.

With a little bit of careful maneuvering, Rinoa carefully foot-nudging the basket away from the bed as it was relieved of his weight, she somehow managed to get Squall into a half sitting position, where she was finally able to properly see the damage.

"Ouf." She exclaimed as she plopped herself on the edge of the bed next to him, the tremors causing another shock wave of pain to travel up his leg. He winced loudly. "Sorry."

"No problem. I'm used to pain where you're around."

"Ha. Ha. But seriously, you look like death warmed over." Without thinking twice, or at least appearing not to be thinking twice, Rinoa combed her fingers through his damp hair, pulling it away from his grey-tinged face and undoing the small braids she had jokingly inserted. His forehead was branded with an impression of the trash rim. She pursed her lips, staring at him, her dark eyes wandering all over his face, hand pressed against his brow, before coming to some conclusion and heading off toward the sink.

"You have a bad fever." She told him bluntly, with the apparent indifference of a medic. She scanned the supplies Kayle had left in the room and found a thankfully blood free white cloth, still in its sterilized plastic bag. Tearing it open with her teeth she headed to the sink, running the cold water until it became as freezing as possible and then soaking the rag. "It may mean your wound is infected. Or at least fighting an infection. Good thing we're landing in Garden soon."

"Uh-huh." Squall wasn't listening too well. Being slouched over had long since become unbearably uncomfortable. But so was the prospect of lying back and becoming an invalid. No, he had humiliated himself enough today in front of her. And besides, he felt better. A little.

Inch by inch Squall pushed himself back wards, propping up the pillows behind him so that he could lean against the wall, sitting up straight, thankfully looking less pathetic than he felt.

This time she gently seated herself on the edge of the cot, wet towel in hand, and immediately pressed it to his cheek, wiping gently at the layer of sweat that covered his paste colored face.

She sighed as she wiped at his neck and saw the thin, now-translucent material of his t-shirt clinging to his broad chest, heaving with each painful breath. This wouldn't do. She seriously wasn't thinking about anything other than medical concern when she found herself instructing that he remove the garment.

Squall's eyes widened with obvious shock as he struggled to find a way of saying 'hell no' without seeming offensive. She had gotten away with touching him too often today, he had to put his foot down, he had to make boundaries, he had too…

"Stop it Squall." she interrupted while harshly pressing the cloth against his mouth. She had seen in his eyes the cogs turning, trying to find a way to less-than-gently push her away. "I'm not going anywhere so you may as well not bother. I'm only trying to cool you down so you'll be more comfortable for the rest of the journey. Okay? No evil ploy here to get a peep show or anything. No trying to get into your head. It's just me. It's Rinoa. And I'm feeling sad and guilty and ashamed of hurting you. And if it gets any worse because of something I didn't do, then that makes me all the more responsible. And I can't deal with that. I can't deal with being the one who caused you pain…so, please, for once, just shut up and let me help, okay?"

He stared back at her, the intensity of her eyes burrowing into him, gently chipping away at his resolve. He wanted to push her away, wanted to be left alone with his own misery and not further ridicule himself. But…she seemed so sad. So determined. Eyes focused to the point of tearing on every bead of sweat on his skin and gently wiping it away. Though semi emasculating, Squall couldn't help but find her actions, her speech, to be heartbreakingly sweet. Her intentions were pure, his damaged body was desperate for the attention she was giving and his mind safe…for now.

He nodded, silently telling her it was alright while grasping the hem of his shirt and shyly pulling it up over his head. He got stuck at some point, the garment being indeed completely soaked and thus sticking in places cotton shouldn't stick. Of course, she was there to untangle him, leaning forward so that they were chest-to-to chest to help him get him arms out of the sleeves.

One free, he leaned back and surrendered, realizing that there was no shame in giving in to being pampered, especially since he was so concentrated on her movements, that for moments at a time he actually succeeded in forgetting about the pain. And the cool cloth on his burning skin did indeed feel good. Really good. He leaned further back into the pillows and let his eyes flutter closed.

"Thank you" Squall said sleepily. His voice sounded strange to his own ears. Soft and slurred instead of his usually solid tone. It sounded funny actually. He wanted to laugh, but it instead came out as a cough, then a half-chuckle/bark.

Rinoa grinned. "My pleasure."

And it sincerely was, hands traveling up and down his bare chest, strong and muscular as expected from the rest of him. She had never seen him like this before, and she had definitely never before been allowed to touch. He must have fallen asleep at some point, for soon his chest was moving up and down rhythmically with the labored breathing of someone in a fitful state of rest. This Rinoa couldn't help but take as another opportunity to stare, this time unabashedly, at his close-to-perfect form. Correction: perfect male form. Sure he had a few scars here and there, a few freckles and hairs, but every flaw worked to make him all the more appealing, all the more beautiful, all the more sexy. It was distracting, and more than once she found her bare hands slinking their way over the sticky skin instead of the damp cloth. She shook her head, blushing furiously, feeling like a criminal dentist who abuses their patients after they go under.

She continued to wipe him down, pausing after a while to go and rinse the cloth in the freezing water and then return, instantly pressing the sopping fabric down onto his collar bone. Squall winced loudly at the abrupt change in temperature and instinctively caught Rinoa's wrist, his SeeD training kicking in to catch any potential night attacker in the act.

"S-sorry." She stammered, hastily removing the offensive fabric with her other hand. "I guess I made it too cold."

She headed back to the sink with the intention of wringing it out better, when she was harshly pulled back to the bed, having forgotten that Squall still hadn't let go of her wrist.

"Where are you going?" he asked, with an almost child-like, fearful whimper. Rinoa turned to face him and noticed his eyes were wide and glassy. Genuinely afraid. It was weird to see such an expression on his face, an expression of complete and utter helplessness.

"I'm just going to wring out the cloth a bit more. I'll be back."

Squall shook his head aggressively. "I exaggerated, its fine. You don't have to leave."

This made Rinoa even more confused. She scoffed at his attitude and gestured to the kitchenette not even ten paces away. "I'm just going right ther-"

"Please."

Something in his voice made her immediately pause, turning to scrutinize his eyes for any hint of joking or malice. She saw none. Just raw emotion. Raw fear. The fever was getting to him, it was the only explanation. But still she felt it was important to indulge the patient, no matter how temporarily insane.

"Fine. I'm not going anywhere." She smiled as she said this and saw Squall's glassy eyes immediately soften and crinkle as he grinned. His head fell back into the pillow and his eyes closed, obviously having spent the last reserve of his energy on his quest to make her stay. He scooted over as Rinoa found her seat on the edge of the cot once more, meticulously returning to her job by pressing the cloth against his neck.

She could feel his pulse racing against her fingertips at an almost inhuman pace, his breathing fast and strained. She looked down to the bandage on his leg and noted how the thick white gauze was once again soaked through with blood seeping into the bed sheets as well.

"I…I don't feel…very well."

"You going to be sick again?" her hand reached in preparation towards the basket, but he adamantly shook his head. "Good. Then it's probably just the fever. You'll feel better soon."

She felt Squall's fingers remove themselves from her wrist and grope towards her hands, clutching it tightly in his own. His palms were cold and clammy, liking gripping the fingers of death itself.

"Do-Don't leave me…k?" he mumbled, seemingly more to the air than to her specifically. "Until we get to Garden, please don't move."

"I'm right here. I said I wouldn't move."

"You promise? No matter what happens?"

"Yes, I promise…why?" Rinoa whispered quietly, leaning forward so that he could hear her better over his own strained breathing. It sounded like he was trying to suck air through a thin spiral straw. He smiled, running a blood covered hand through her bangs and down her cheek. A gesture she would have treasured in any situation but this.

"I'm sorry you know," he said, his voice now raspy and his lips becoming an odd shade of pinkish grey. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Stop being melodramatic Squall," she chastised, pushing herself to sound a lot calmer than she actually felt. He was getting paler, his breathing more strained, and Rinoa's panic rising with every staggering intake of air. She wanted to run to the bridge and get Kayle, warn him that something was terribly wrong. But she promised…why had she promised? She pushed the sweaty bangs away from his forehead, smiling at the fact that on the brink of death or not, he wasn't making any effort of swatting her away.

"I shouldn't have kissed you at the Celebration Ball. I shouldn't have done all that. That night haunts me everyday…I wanted you to know that. I…I'm sorry."

"Shh…" she leaned closer to him, pretending to be oblivious to the tears that now ran freely down her cheeks. "We agreed not to talk about that, remember? We said we'd forget about it, it never happened. Fresh slate. Remember the fresh slate idea?"

"**I** said to forget about it…but you never wanted to, did you?"

Rinoa shook her head aggressively. Not to agree with his statement but in an attempt to keep down long suppressed memories, which had allowed her and Squall to continue on as they had, as friends. Both the best and worst night of her life.

"It must have been horrible, waking up all alone. I meant to come back and be there with you but, I was too afraid. Ashamed…I'm sorry Rinoa. I'm so sorr…"

"**Don't**" Rinoa interrupted hotly, continually shaking her head. "Do not do me any favors Leonhart. Don't say anything now that you'll regret once we get back to Garden and patch you up."

His eyelids fluttered for a few seconds, a kaleidoscope of red, white, blue and beige before opening wide again, straining to focus. "I'm getting pretty tired Rin…"

"You're not going to die from this _stupid_, stupid injury. I won't let you. You got impaled with an ice shard for Hyne's sake! And now a tiny, measly bullet's got you all worked up. You're being a damn baby. I'm going to get Kayle."

"No!" he moved to grab her again but his sight, aim and strength were poor and instead he ended up half falling off the cot before Rinoa thankfully caught him inches from the ground, struggling to get him back in his bed.

"You. Damned. Heavy. Idiot." She barked, struggling to get a body twice her size back into a comfortable position. "He's more experienced than I am. He can help you. Don't be an idiot just because you're scared."

"Please. Please." He begged, weeping into her palm, pulling her closer. "Don't go. I need you. I can't help it. I need you…"

Rinoa blinked, torn between her logic telling to go and get help, her brain wanting to cuss him out of his horrible timing when admitting her cared, and her heart's need to comply to his every wish, no matter how heartbroken she was guaranteed to be when he came back to his senses…just like that night.

And, true to form, she succumbed, nuzzling up beside him on the cot that was way too small for two people, her head rested comfortably in the crook of his shoulder while she continued her cool-cloth ministrations.

"Squall, listen to me, you're going to be okay." his head lolled to one side, eyes clenched shut as if fighting an unimaginable pain. Her efforts to keep him cool were in vain, for within seconds his entire body was gleaming again, slick with sweat.

"Squall? Squall please…hear my voice." dread rose in Rinoa's throat as she watched him struggle with unknown demons, apparently tearing apart his insides by the looks of it. She took his squirming head in both her hands and fought to keep him still, her own eyes filling with tears at the idea that she had caused this. His pain was her fault. And if he didn't make it back to Garden…if he didn't last these next forty minutes…she would never forgive herself.

"Squall…please…Squall. Please say something."

He swallowed loudly, gasped and shuddered. "It….it hurts" was all she every got out of him, the pain finally coaxing him into a restless sleep.

Rinoa sighed and nuzzled deeper into him, wanting to go and get Kayle but _needing_ to stay within his reach. A promise was a promise.

Besides, how many times had she watched him near death now? Three? Four? He would make it through this. He had to.

'It hurts' he had told her. Though he was most likely referring to the gaping hole in his thigh, Rinoa wondered if he had meant something else. She remembered the night of the Celebration Ball. The shame. The regret. The past year she had been working hard, hoping against all hope that they could have a fresh start, needing it desperately.

Hell ya, it hurt.

It hurt every, single, agonizing day.

'_I need you too Squall…so much that it will be the death of me.'_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Whoa…two updates in one week? HAS THE WORLD GONE MAD!?? Naw. As mentioned in the last chapter, this is the second half of "Need" that I had to cut out due to ridiculous length issues. I wanted to get this out before people forgot what happened AND I was really happy with my reviews so far so…why not post early since it was already written?

Thank you all again for your kind words and constructive criticism. A general consensus seems to be that my humor is appreciated, my characters are lovable BUT I tend to go on looong tangents. Though romance will always be the central theme of my stories, I do like to have an actual sub-plot going on between the lines. Thus the long political rants at times, they do have a point I swear! I always found ff8 to have such an open ending…yeah he saved her from being frozen, but aren't people still afraid of her? What led to Ultimecia's world if Rinoa was the last sorceress? Now that Esthar open, Deling is dead, the world is in shambles etc., how does it sort itself out in the end? These question I cannot help but explore in parallel to the main question "how do polar opposites like Squall and Rinoa make it work?", especially as **Commander** and **Sorceress** let alone loner guy and high-spirited girl. Somehow, they must compliment each other.

Next chapter is already written as well. I'm trying to build some hype for this story by moving more quickly towards the inevitable Squinoa content. "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" is still in the works as well. I'm just at that super awkward ending stage that will make or break my leniencies with the characters, so it's taking a while due to several rewrites.

Whoa. Long author's note. I gotta watch that. Enjoy! And please review.


	7. Friends

"_A true friend stabs you in the front."_

**-- ****Oscar Wilde**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 7: …_Friends_ …

"URga!" Selphie dropped the last of the Squall and Rinoa's gear on the landing pad concrete with a triumphant surge of relief, raising her arms above her head in a stretch while doing a victory jig. Kayle was a lucky bastard since he was the only one strong enough to carry the now-unconscious Squall into Garden, thus exempting him from unloading duty. And Rinoa being, well, the closest thing Squall will ever come to a healthy relationship, she had a _get out of jail free_ card to pass straight on to the infirmary with him, her wrist caught in a death grip between his immovable fingers.

That left poor-lil'ole Selphie to do the dirty work. Yet again, by coincidence. And though it may have made more sense to wait for help in the morning, the perky SeeD had her _very_ good reasons for immediate action.

There was a rather strict un-spoken rule among those few pilots qualified enough to use the Ragnarok. If you left your mission junk in the cargo hold after leaving the ship up for grabs, then the bay doors were prone to "accidentally" popping open during a trans-oceanic flight once the next pilot got a hold of her.

She herself actually had been the one to invent this rule after one too many times of Nida ignoring her repeated requests to remove his crap. And like hell he was getting the revenge he so craved tonight. Her pride was at stake, regardless of the screaming she was sure to face if she had lost the Commander's belongings.

As expected, only seconds after the last bag had hit the floor, Selphie heard the familiar 'woosh' of the air-seal being released from Garden as someone stepped onto the roof-top landing pad, their high heels clicking on the pavement. Probably Nida in an attempt to steal the ship, thinking she wouldn't dare unload alone at this time of night…joke's on him.

She turned to face her quarry, a haughty smirk already developing on her lips. "Nice try dumbas-"

But instead of a tall dark male, Selphie found herself facing an even taller blonde female, striding forward at a brisk pace with the distinct air of a woman on a mission.

Selphie's expression immediately turned sullen. She should have known by the sound of the shoes. Nida was weird but he wasn't the type of guy to dress up in heels. Not in public anyways.

Within seconds, Quistis arrived at the pile of baggage, giving her co-worker the benefit of a slight nod before roughly tugging down the zipper of the nearest duffle bag of Squall's belongings. She showed not the slightest hint of hesitation before beginning to rifle through it, a pen poised between her perfectly white teeth and a clipboard clamped between her knees as she searched.

If it had been anyone else Selphie may have been baffled, perhaps even violently defensive. But Quistis will be Quistis, her motives always a mystery and her authority unquestionable. Besides, whatever her reasons, Selphie's cheer was immediately restored as she remembered the juicy stock of gossip she had picked up over the course of the evening, ready and eager to share - whether the audience was interested or not.

"Hey Quisty! You'll never believe the drama tonight!" she bounced over to the opposite side of the pile, excited to be the first one with the details about the Commander's brush with death. That is, before she remembered this particular SeeDs involvement in the whole affair. Her smile instantly melted.

"By the way, that was a really rotten thing you did; demanding that Kayle remove his stock of morphine. The poor man got shot in the groin area! And we've had to dope people up for less."

Quistis shrugged again, tossing one duffle bag full of regular clothing away before moving onto the next. "He lived, didn't he?"

"Pfft, no thanks to you. In the end he passed out the pain was so much."

She hesitated then, her long fingers staying stalk still for a moment as the words sunk in. In that instant, Selphie could have sworn she saw a pang of regret pass through the co-Headmistress' eyes. Either that or a bug flew into her spectacles but, assuming not, that one millisecond of indecision was enough to prove to Selphie that her friend was a far cry from a true militant monster.

"Aha!" she waved an accusatory finger in the woman's face. "I saw that! You feel bad."

Quistis gave her dry glare while continuing to unpack yet another bag of clothing, more aggressively this time. "Of course I feel bad" she admitted gloomily. "I wish I didn't have to do it, but I still think he had it coming. Like…like spanking a child for stealing from the neighbors. Cruel but," she paused, struggling to find the right word, twisting her wrist in circles while waiting for it to come to mind. "Necessary. Yes. Cruel but necessary."

"_Necessary_?" Selphie repeated incredulously, hands resting defensively on her hips. "You don't think him getting shot was punishment enough?"

"That was just karma."

"Karma!? Are you serious?"

Quistis let out a frustrated scowl and glared at her co-worker from over the edge of her spectacles, pushing them further down her nose to enhance the effect. "Is there a _reason_ you're still here Selphie?"

The brunette merely shrugged, winding her arms like windmills in order to get the extra kinks out. "Just protecting the gear from Nida dumping it in the Ocean."

Quistis rolled her eyes, having had to listen to complaints about the war between the Ragnarok pilots more than enough. Two weeks earlier the third pilot, Brohan, had a mysterious keycard malfunction that, when inserted into the ignition, set off the intruder alarm and locked him inside the hull restroom for nearly nineteen hours before someone found him. Before that, Captain Keiko had stood to leave the bridge only to discover that super-glue had been generously applied to the captain's chair. She returned to Garden with the entire back half of her uniform skirt missing. And then there was the famous one of Nida's painstakingly collected stock of adamantine shells being 'accidentally' unloaded due to a cargo door malfunction. Everyone had been hit by practical jokes. Everyone…except Selphie. And she worked damn hard to avoid em'.

"Well they won't try anything while I'm out here." Quistis asserted, continuing her search. "Go to bed. Get ready for your vacation. You've done good work here tonight. I'll be sure to pass commendations on to the Headmaster."

"I dunnoooo…" Selphie whispered dubiously, her eyes darting over every square inch of the platform. "I wouldn't put it past them to try something tonight. They know I plan on taking the ship out tomorrow for my trip to the island since I had to put in my name for rank reservation to bypass their dibs."

"What?! You _elite_ _mission_ _reserved_ the ship to…"

Quistis shook her head in aggravation, hastily removing her spectacles in order to massage the skin between her eyes. A head ache was certainly on its way according to the throbbing of her temples. "Look, leave now and I'll pretend I didn't hear that you intend to 'borrow' our only emergency air vehicle for personal business. And I promise to take care of the gear. Okay?"

Selphie took a moment to consider this, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. "I guess that sounds okay…"

"It's more than okay. I'll handle it. Now please go to bed."

"But, what about the ship? After you leave I mean. I can practically feel them scheming from in there." Her gaze wandered over towards Garden's body, eyes narrowing maliciously at the enemies dwelling within. Just waiting for their moment to pounce. "They're certainly going to try something tonight. I can feel it. The opportunity is too perfect."

"You do realize that you're, at the moment, the dictionary definition of paranoid?" her stare gradually wandered from Selphie's apprehensive stance back down to the task at hand, scribbling notes on her clipboard as she went. "After all, so far it's only been you to take these pranks so seriously."

"Hey!" Selphie grinned evilly, her eyes glinting with manic mischief. "Need I remind you that no proof has ever been found that at all links me to any of those unfortunate accidents."

Quistis grinned, nodding her head in reluctant agreement. Selphie was, after all, a professional. It would have been disappointing indeed if one of their elite mercenaries had been caught in such a childish scheme. They were trained to avoid detection at all costs. What would the spy-network clients think?

"I'll apply curfew regulations to the air dock as soon as I leave" she promised, taking a moment to clear her throat, reposition her glasses, mark something on her clip board and then dive into a new random box among the couple's belongings. "No one except Administrators will have access to the ship. Satisfied?"

"I dunno…"

"And…" it was getting late and Quistis was getting more than a little weary of this run-around. Time to pull out the big guns, so to speak. "I'll throw in not showing Cid the actual proof I have of you committing all those stupid pranks."

"Wha-huh?" Selphie's eyes narrowed, sure that her leg was being pulled. It was impossible. "What proof? You don't have any proof."

It was Quistis' turn to grin maliciously. "The security log-in printouts of course. The ones you attempted to erase and I dug up. Your code, entered the nights in question, your proof, your ass on the line."

Selphie was good. But Quistis was just so much better.

The shorter woman gulped, meeting her superior's unwavering stare with incredulous eyes. Cid had threatened immediate removal of flying rights to the culprit and Selphie loved that ship more than Zell loved hot dogs, which needless to say was an unhealthy amount. It was her stress-reliever, her one extraordinary privilege and talent that set her remarkably above the rest and, secretly, Irvine's favorite place to sneak into for some much-needed 'alone-time'.

That ship was her favorite thing in all of Garden, which was the reason she was so antagonistically possessive of it in the first place. Quistis was, of course, completely aware of all that.

"So," she began again, one daring eyebrow raised in question. "I ask again. Are you satisfied?"

Seeing no other choice, Selphie let her shoulders slump in defeat, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "I guess it'll have to do."

Quistis nodded, once again retaining the air of a professional. "Good" she said, turning to continue rummaging through the Ragnarok's baggage, cataloguing every item of pertinence, cringing when one specific box sent a cloud of dust in her face upon removing its lid.

"But don't forget!" Selphie called in warning before making a move towards the exit, relieved beyond belief at having once again escaped reprimand.

Quistis ran a tough ship, but she was an experienced enough leader to know that the rules sometimes needed to be bent in exchange for the greater good. And in this case, luckily, she had bigger fish to fry.

Poor Squall.

Maybe it would even be beneficial to his case if the guy fell into a coma for a few weeks, as Kayle said was a possibility. Just long enough for things to cool down since, at the moment, Quistis definitely had it out for him. Who knew what she was even scavenging through his belongings for. Perhaps some secret journal that bluntly stated his plans of betrayal?

Yeah right. She sniggered at the ridiculousness of the thought.

_Dear Diary. It's me again._

_My hair's just not doing that sexy-swoop thing it usually does today. Bummer. Am still sexually ambiguous. Selphie is an amazing and talented woman. Plan to join sorceress in quest for world domination. _

_Whatever._

_With Love, Squall._

"Whatcha doing?"

Quistis promptly dropped the clay plate she had been holding, causing it to shatter into a million pieces on the pavement when her hands leapt to her heart. One minute Selphie had been two steps from the exit, far in the background, and now she was suddenly beside her again, casually yammering in her ear. It was uncanny the way that girl could move. She probably should have majored in espionage instead of piloting.

"Geez Selph. How many times do I have to tell you…"

"Don't sneak up on you, ya ya. I know. It's not my fault you're so unperceptive. So, tell me, what _are_ you doing?"

Quistis sighed a sigh of mourning for the relic plate before deftly moving on with her search, tackling the box that seemed to have the most interesting items so far. "I'm looking for evidence." She stated simply.

Selphie crinkled up her nose in revulsion at the idea. "What, like…birth control?"

"Nooooo." She didn't bother with the cringe that her brain automatically wanted to conjure, wondering why everything had to be so outrageous with Selphie. "Not only is that none of my business but, if you want my professional opinion, I sincerely doubt anything to that effect is going on between Squall and Rinoa."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because," she waved the question away, silently adding that Squall was way too petulant a male to be getting that kind of attention from _any_ woman. Ever. "I'm looking for evidence as to where they've been exactly." She removed a long, delicate bronze chain and locket from the dusty box, turned it over a few times in her hands and then scribbled a brief description on the clip board before moving on.

"Hey! I remember that!" Selphie exclaimed, diving for the locket. "I can't believe he took it! After all that crap about _showing respect_. I knew he was lying."

"What? You recognize it? Where's it from?"

"The Ruins of Odin. Remember? There was this old room that must have once, obviously, belonged to a girl and there was all this funky old stuff in it. Squall was uber-bitchy that day though and made me put everything back. Saying it may be cursed and all the hooey. But I remember this. I tried to sneak it out but he caught me. Observant jerk."

"From Odin's Ruins? The Centra Tower you mean?" Quistis pushed, in full interrogation mode, some unknown emotion pulsating beneath her eyes. "Are you sure?"

Selphie nodded. "I am one hundred percent positive that this necklace came from there." She scrutinized the oval locket, laying it out flat in her palm in order to observe the small center ruby shimmer and the oxidized metal gleam in the soft twilight. Exactly as she had a year ago when finding it among the crumbling ruins. It was then, and still was, a captivating trinket. "Hey, didn't Rinoa say they had just come from excavating the ruins? And that they got bored so they headed to the orphanage?"

The blonde SeeD nodded, clenching and unclenching the dragging bit of bronze chain between her fingers. "Yeah. I mean, yes. Yes she did say that."

Selphie tossed the necklace up in the air and caught it again, a victorious smile gracing her features. "So there's your proof. So far they've only been exactly where they've said they've been."

"So far. True." She scanned the gear and saw three other such boxes scattered among their belongings. "However, I'm still going to look. Who knows what Squall and Rinoa have been doing this past week."

"Hmm. Well here's a perhaps crazy though substantially less tedious thought." She paused for dramatic effect, pressing a finger to her lips. "How about…you ASK THEM?!"

Quistis shook her head softly. "Don't be naïve Selphie. People lie. Luggage doesn't."

"Well then," the pilot stood up, brushing the dirt from off of her knees as she did so "Have fun with your luggage. I'm going to go check on my friends."

"Selphie" she called when the girl had gotten no more than ten steps away. Selphie turned, arms crossed across her chest, waiting.

Quistis gulped. "I'm not a bad person."

She didn't know why she felt the need to enforce that fact. Maybe it was just because she felt her friend losing faith in her. And people's faith was all she had. Since loosing her instructor's license, since loosing faith in herself. She was lucky to have the co-Headmistress job, to have Garden as a home. She would do anything to keep it and its residents safe.

"You're not a bad person Quisty" Selphie assured her, yelling to be heard over the screaming wind. "You're just not a very good friend!"

She didn't know why, but Quistis smirked at this. After all, she wasn't aiming to be a friend. She was aiming to be a good SeeD. And whether or not that was the right goal to be striving for, only time would tell.

"I'd like to have that necklace back by the way," she yelled back, laughing as she watched her friend curse at being caught yet again. She pulled the long chain out of her pocket and violently pitched it back.

Quistis caught it with ease and waved, now her turn to smile triumphantly, as she watched the usually bouncy brunette sulk towards the exit.

Still chuckling, the SeeD returned to her cataloguing, pulling out more and more various trinkets and artifacts from the boxes. She labeled each item to the best of her ability, striving to find something, anything that belonged to neither the Centra Tower Ruins nor the Orphanage.

A few books, pottery, jewelry, scraps of paper, and one decrepit looking stuffed animal. Other than that, nothing. At least nothing that hinted to some ulterior motive to the vacation. For clothing and survival gear, Squall and Rinoa had brought nothing more than the necessities; socks, a change of boots, blankets, and (Rinoa being an optimist that she was) a single woman's swimsuit. Nothing unusual. No manuals on the art of war. No weapons other than their usual choices, the gunblade and pinwheel.

Quistis slumped backwards, exasperated with the fruitless search at finding some credible evidence. She had been so sure after hanging up the communicator call with Rinoa, so one hundred percent positive that something furtive was in the process of happening, had been happening for a while now. Everyone could feel it actually. But while some preferred to giggle at the prospect of a secret affair, Quistis took a more realistic route and blamed the tension on something more severe, something applicable to Garden. Rinoa was a sorceress after all. History had long since deemed her incapable of being trusted, always with a knight at her side to do the dirty work.

Rinoa's new powers. Squall's anal retentive and constant need to shadow and coach her. This vacation. The gunblade training. It all added up to conspiracy.

Quistis ran down the list of items again, knowing very well that nothing new was likely to jump off the page. The possibility of her simply being paranoid was becoming a more and more likely a scenario. Rinoa was a far cry from the evil, twisted witches of the history texts. And there was nothing new about Squall acting sheltered and shifty.

She fell back onto her knees, forcing her mind to concentrate simply on the dire process of breathing. Squall and Rinoa were apparently innocent, and she was still juggling the sensations of being relieved, disappointed, and terrified. But now was neither the time nor the place for one to admit to such a grave, embarrassing and potentially paralyzing mistake.

Her brooding thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Garden's air-lock lifting. Quistis turned to face the doorway, squinting in the dim light to see three shadowy figures creep slyly across the airstrip platform, each body lugging something large in their arms.

With a grunt of annoyance, Quistis shuffled through Squall's belongings for the high beam flash light she had spotted earlier.

"Halt!" she yelled while directing the blinding beam on the trio making towards the Ragnarok, illuminating their shocked expressions and their…_original_ cargo.

The three pilots, Nida, Brohan and Keiko, stood petrified on the platform with their jaws hanging open, each of them lugging cages filled to the brim with flapping pigeons, cans of whipped cream, and buckets of what looked like oatmeal floating in slime.

Quistis approached tentatively, keeping the flashlight beam firmly in their eyes while scrutinizing their possessions. A prank indeed.

'_What…the hell?'_

In the end, she opted to snap the light shut, gesturing towards the exit with a groan of complete and utter exasperation.

"Go to bed" She told them meekly while tossing the flashlight back into the general pile of Squall's belongings.

"I don't even want to know."

___

Squall opened one eye. Then another.

There was light. Bright white light. Everywhere.

_'Am I dead?'_…

He laughed at the thought, even though it wasn't exactly something to laugh about, and as his chest filled with air to expel the sound, he noticed that he was breathing. Slowly, but breathing none the less. Not only that, but he was moving too.

White, blue. Blue, white. The light was changing, morphing into various shapes and sizes. Moving fast too. Speeding almost.

He groaned and closed his eyes again, feeling the blissful haze of delirium gradually begin to lift and be replaced with nausea. Then the voices came.

"I think he's waking up?!" she sounded far away, almost as if underwater, but the words were comprehensible enough. As was the voice's owner.

"_Ri-Rinoa_?"

"Shh. Don't talk." She warned him. Her fingers, still coiled between his own, tightened their hold. She was so warm. More sounds gradually joined her voice. Other people, rushing water, multiple heels clicking on polished marble, the wheels of the gurney squeaking under his weight. He was back at Garden, he realized with a start.

Thank Hyne.

"How bad is it?" her voice wasn't directed at him anymore, but to someone standing on the other side. Someone heavier according to the sound of their footsteps.

"You said he was sick?"

A bright light was flashed in his eye which he struggled to get away from, but his attempts came to nothing more but a disheartened whine. He hated this. Hated being so pathetic and docile. Where were the damn drugs?

"Yes, for nearly ten minutes. Then he started bleeding again."

"I wrapped the wound as tight as I could doctor, I assure you" came another voice. A young male. The medic cadet Kayle. "He must have torn it further open."

He felt the gurney turn sharply, probably having arrived at the bridge to the infirmary.

"He'll need a transfusion. What's his blood type?"

"Uhh…"

"AB," Rinoa quipped instantly. How the hell did she know that?

"Universal receiver. Nice. That makes our job easier. And Kayle, you should have read his profile before even attempting any remedial action. What if he was allergic to something? Strike one."

"Sorry doctor."

"Don't be sorry. Don't do it again."

"Yes doctor. I-I mean no doctor. I won't do it again."

The gurney turned again, and the smell of the air changed. The citrus polish used in Garden's halls gradually morphed into the infirmary's antiseptic and astringent scent. It made his eyes water.

"Help me move him." Kadowaki yelled.

"_Whoa_…Na- I'm okay" at this Squall drew the line, making a rather pathetic attempt at sitting up the moment with felt several pairs of intruding hands clamp onto different parts of his body. "I-I'm not a complete invalid yet."

"Ignore him" Kadowaki ordered, placing her own hands firmly on either side of his head to bring him back down. "On the count of three. One. Two."

"Wait! I-I can…"

Before he had another chance to protest, Squall had already been thrown onto a new bed, the movement influencing another fresh wave of pain to punch him brutally in the gut. He groaned loudly upon landing and turned on his good side, clutching the sheets in one hand and squeezing Rinoa's fingers still in the other. For some reason, he found it impossible to let go. It hurt too much. It would hurt so much more if she were to let go.

"_Kadowaki_?" he mumbled to the large, blurry, white-clad figure somewhere in front of him.

"Yes Squall?"

"_I-I…haate you_."

"Aww. Well ain't that charming. Now on your back."

"_I'm serious Kad-Kadowaki_" she was manually ripping his fingers away from the sheets now, pushing onto his opposite shoulder in order to force him to roll backwards. He gave her the best death-glare he could muster considering his barely useable vision. "_Next month…budget cuts __**galore**__ for the infirmary. I-I'm serious_."

"Yeah, whatever. Kayle, go fetch a fresh pair of gloves. Rinoa, bring over that cart in reception. We're going to need to clean the wound again before we go digging for that bullet."

Squall felt a weak few tugs on his fingers, one of the few sensations available beyond the mind-numbing pain. Rinoa, trying to get away. He held on tighter, silently reminding her of her promise not to let go. She couldn't leave him, not now. He wouldn't let her.

He heard her sigh, then shuffle to adopt a more comfortable position by his side.

"I can't" Rinoa said, giving up on escaping and instead opting to return his grip equally tightly within both of her hands.

"Why not?"

"He-he won't let go of me."

"Oh for the love of-" the doctor sighed and shuffled into reception, dragging back along with her the cart of sterilized utensils. "He comes in here once a year and causes more trouble than all other patients combined."

"Your gloves." Kayle was back. Squall managed a small wave of hello with his free hand pinky before letting it drop onto his forehead. Kadowaki, with gloves now in place, had already begun cutting around the absolute top of his leather pants, stripping of the damp pieces, sticky with blood, in order to get a better view of the wound. Despite himself, Squall felt himself tense and blush at her probing. Kayle should have done the surgery in the privacy of the Ragnarok cabin. Risk of infection or not, Kadowaki wasn't known for her gentleness and Rinoa watching made it all the more worse. On top of everything, he now had a migraine. Perfect.

Another involuntary groan escaped his lips.

"This would be a good time for that morphine, perhaps, doctor?" Rinoa suggested, practically reading his mind. "He's been in pain for several hours already."

_'Yes. Good Rinoa!'_

At this point, he would have kissed her had he the energy.

"Naw, he's been okay" Kayle said, sounding relaxed and casual. "He drank about half a liter of gin before we took off. He's not feeling a thing."

Kadowaki paused her cleaning. Rinoa sucked in her breath. And Kayle stood statue-still, shifting between each of their stunned expressions. Squall tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough instead.

_'Oops.'_

Kayle was oblivious. "What?"

Kadowaki flung the blood soaked cotton she had been using onto the tiled floor, pulling her mask off her face in order to glare properly at her student. "Am I to understand that you, cadet, gave a critically bleeding patient _alcohol_ as a method of pain-relief?"

Kayle took an apprehensive step backward. "Well…yeah. He was in pain. And Headmistress Trepe insisted that I remove all narcotics from my kit. So I-I snuck some gin aboard in my water bottle."

"Gin?" Rinoa repeated. Squall could feel her grip loosening. "You gave him half a liter of gin? Seriously?" She thought back to the water she had given him back on the Ragnarok, the bottle he had been so desperately reaching for on the night stand. Well, what she had thought was water.

"I was only trying to help."

"By getting your patient, your _commander_, drunk?" Kadowaki seemed furious. And that woman could be damn scary when she was furious.

"Only a _little_ drunk" Squall helped, holding his two fingers up to symbolize how 'little' it was.

Rinoa stared at him in disbelief. "Well that explains a lot…"

He shrugged in a bored manner, wondering when they'd stop arguing and get this whole disaster over with. His head hurt. He wanted to sleep.

So he was drunk. He'd never been really drunk before. And, short of receiving another bullet wound out in the middle of nowhere lodged in bone with an incomplete medical kit, he never would be again. The kid had only been trying to help.

"N-Not drunk exactly…" Kayle tried, desperately trying to plead his case. "Alcohol is an age-old method of pain-relieving due to its ability to depress the central nervous system, it… "

"Except, dear Kayle, if the alcohol used becomes **excessive**. And -this is the fun point here- if it is used in conjunction with other pain-killing drugs it is almost guaranteed to damage the stomach lining, the liver, cause ulcers and stomach bleeding. Not to mention, alone, it thins the blood so that it can gush out all the more easily. Explaining why he was continuing to hemorrhage even after your wrapping."

"…Oh."

"Strike two Kayle. Next time you read up on the consequences before experimenting on a patient. You hear me?"

"What? What does this mean?" Rinoa piped in, sounding like she was screaming into his ear. He winced, allowing a small 'shhh' to escape his lips. Hyne she was loud today.

"It means that we're going to have to do this without anesthesia. The old-fashioned way."

"What?" Rinoa gasped. "That'll kill him!"

"Naw. It'll just hurt like hell. And what doesn't kill ya…" she paused for dramatic effect, making some gesture he couldn't see. "You know the rest. Do me a favor and prop him up."

He felt his world moving, gradually inclining forward along with a loud electronic buzz that filled his ear. The bed was being folded so that he could sit up, Rinoa and Kayle both gripping onto his shoulder to help adjust him with the movement.

Kadowaki had finished her cleaning, the scent and sting of the antiseptic suddenly vanishing.

"Hold him still, no matter what." Kayle was saying.

Squall crinkled his brow, eyes still closed. What did they think he would do, run away? Ha!

"You sure we can't just wait till the alcohol wears off and do this?" Rinoa was suggesting.

"Not if we want to prevent infection. He'll risk losing his leg."

"Okay…if it's the only way then."

"Brace yourselves."

It took a while for the words to register, slow as his brain was at the moment, but as soon as they did his eyes popped open, struggling to focus on the blurry shape of the doctor poised above his thigh, a rather large scalpel in hand.

"No! Wait!"

Too late.

Everyone in the entire Garden woke in their beds then, roused from sleep by an inhuman scream. It echoed down the hallways, bouncing of the walls, causing the younger cadets to hug their pillows tighter and ward off the monsters under their bed. And upstairs, in her office, surrounded by the piles of useless items Squall and Rinoa had collected on their excavating project, Quistis' head fell into her hands.

…

"What have I done…?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **I wanted to upload this for you guys on Saturday night so that everyone would have a nice Sunday surprise to leisurely read but, don't know if anyone else noticed, Fanfiction has been a jerk lately…every attempt to login came up with "we're experiencing technical difficulties. Try again in a minute." – a minute which turned into EIGHTY-NINE HOURS! Grrr…

So here it is. This is the second-to-last pre-written chapter before I have to start actually writing from scratch again. Next chapter up next week. Thanks again for your kind reviews and constructive criticism.


	8. Pieces

"_You want me to act like we've never kissed  
You want to forget; pretend we've never met  
And I've tried and I've tried, but I haven't yet...  
You walk by, and I fall to pieces."_

**- Pasty Cline **_**("I Fall to Pieces")**_

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 8: …_Pieces_ …

"No."

"Come on Squall. It'll be fun!"

"I don't want it. I don't need it. No."

"I don't think you have much of a choice man."

"…"

"Come on. Humor me. Kadowaki's being a bit of a tyrant. She says you take the wheelchair or nothing at all."

"Then you just pull rank on Kadowaki and tell her to get me the crutches."

"Hell no! Have you ever even tried to go against her orders? She's scary, man." Zell shook his head eagerly, stealing a worried glance over his shoulder towards where the doctor sat at her desk, her back to them. He shivered. "Nu-uh. If you don't want the chair - you ask. I didn't drive all the way down here at four in the morning from Balamb in order to get beaten by some old lady before ten."

"No one forced you to come down here."

"Well _excuuusssse_ me for being worried about you."

Squall fell back further into the pillows and rubbed furiously at his temples, trying to push away the horrible hang-over headache that was pulsating under his skin. Though the after effects proved that alcohol was definitely not the preferred method of dealing with the pain of an injury, on the bright side, at least he hardly remembered anything.

The cadet Kayle had told him the moment he regained consciousness that he had actually sprained a few of Rinoa's fingers the night before, after having squeezed them for the ten straight minutes during the anesthesia-less surgery to remove the bullet. He had a few flashbacks of this; of squirming under both Kayle and Rinoa's powerful hold as Kadowaki none-so-gently dug into his thigh, slicing open a portion before squirming around with tweezers in order to find the thing. And then, after finally locating the bullet and several failed attempts to dislodge it, the "sympathetic" doctor then brought out the BIGGER tweezers for a firmer hold to yank it out from the bone it was lodged in.

And Rinoa had stayed with him. Through the entire thing, even though he was breaking her fingers, bruising and battering her with his attempts to get free. She had stayed until the last minute of the surgery but then, inexplicably, his vague memories didn't include her. Why? He wished he had been sober. Sober he could have faked anything. Maybe then he wouldn't be dreading bumping into her as much.

Squall glanced at the wall clock. A little after seven a.m. it read. Knowing Rinoa, she was probably still sleeping at this hour after their little, late-night adventure. Still, assistant or no assistant, injured or healthy, the Commander had work to do. Work that was in his third floor office.

"Just tell her I want the crutches Zell. She won't hurt you for passing on a message. You can even just stand in the doorway there and yell it out, a good fifteen feet away."

"I dunno…" Zell whispered incredulously, leaning his head back into his linked hands. "Why don't you just stay here for a day or two like she suggests, huh? You're still booked for another week of vacation time. Quistis is looking after things. And if you're really that twitchy I can even go and bring some work for you to do, k? Though, as your friend, I do feel the need to tell you that I find that option so very pathetic."

"What's pathetic is _sitting here like a useless corpse while I could be of some use to society_!" He yelled the last part out, leaning a bit forward in the bed so that his voice hopefully carried out into the hall. If Kadowaki heard, she was ignoring him as usual.

Squall grunted in annoyance as he scratched at the flimsy, gray scrubs he had been given for his overnight stay, wondering if she purposely sprinkled it with a skin irritant in order to make him even more uncomfortable. He wouldn't put it past her. It also didn't help that every inch of his body, not including the surgery site, was still covered in dried dirt and sticky sweat.

He glanced at the clock again. Eight minutes past seven now. In less than an hour, news of his injury was sure to hit the gossip channels as those many students without family to visit and remaining at Garden rose for breakfast. After that, people would inevitably start popping into the infirmary for no apparent reason, craning their neck to get a look at him. Or they would sneak around the back gate and press their faces against the window, struggling to get a peep through the half closed Venetian blinds. If there was one thing Squall Leonhart couldn't deal with, it was pity. And so Hyne help him, he **will** be clean and in normal clothes, working normally at his desk, and with nothing more than a simple stick to help him get around (not some clunky chair made for cripples) all within the hour.

"Just ask for them, please. I need to get out here."

"You have cable here! And unlimited hot dogs! Why the hell are you so eager to leave?"

"Zell…"

He finally dropped his arms to his sides, groaning in reluctance. "Fine fine. I'll ask for your damn crutches. KADOWAKI!!" He moved to the threshold of the room, poking his head outside in order to communicate with the doctor manning the reception. "INSTEAD OF THE WHEELCHAIR, SQUALL WANTS CRUTCHES. IS THAT COOL?"

Beyond the doorway, Squall could here the doctor mutter something casually. The tone she was using seemed relatively non-hostile: a definite good sign.

"OKAY. THANKS KADOWAKI!" Zell moved back into the room a few seconds later, a grin on his face as he maneuvered around the clunky wheel chair in the center of the floor in order to take the seat next to Squall's bed.

"Soo…" Squall prompted, twisting his wrist in a gesture to explain.

"Oh. Yeah. Well, the basic message was 'no' I assume."

"You _assume_ 'no'." Squall raised an eyebrow.

"Well she had some colorful language, followed by a rather blunt hand gesture. So, yeah. No. I'm pretty sure its 'no'."

"Argg." Squall fell back into the pillows again, running his hands over his matted hair and down his face in dire aggravation. "Who does she think she is?"

"The keeper of the keys to the infirmary locker? Cause that, she indeed is."

"I'm the **Commander**. You'd think that I'd have some sort of influence around here." His bloodshot blue eyes swiveled towards the doorway, where he was for sure hearing someone heartily chuckling from within the reception area. This only served to snap the one remaining string of his patience.

"Okay. That's it" he violently ripped off the sheet covering his lower half and shuffled his good leg off the side of the bed. "Squall the Jerk deserves to be punished. I get it. But I've had enough. I'm leaving."

"Whoa. WHOA!" Zell pushed his friend back into the mattress, his eyes wide with alarm. "Are you nuts?"

"I'm a tad pissed off is what I am. And I think I've filled my quota of pain and humiliation for at least the next month. So, if you don't mind…" He made to get up again only to be thwarted once more by Zell.

"Oh, and another thing I forgot to mention," he pressed more firmly on Squall's shoulders as he made another effort to stand. "She also told me that if you try to walk over there and give her a piece of your mind, then she's not stitching up the huge hole in your leg that will, without a doubt, **rip** open. Nor re-set the bone that will inevitably displace if you put weight on it. And I wouldn't put it past her man. She's mean when challenged."

Squall scoffed, the hangover headache building to a throbbing crescendo behind his eyes. "It's a miniscule bullet wound, not a chimera mauling. Kadowaki doesn't know what she's talking about."

"She's been Garden's chief of surgery for two decades Squall, and bleeding to death is bleeding to death no matter what method. Just take the damn chair if you're so desperate to leave. Screw your pride."

"This isn't a bout _pride_…" he lowered his one good leg onto the floor, wincing as the freezing tiles met his bare foot.

"Yes it is. And I'm telling you now, it's not worth it. Don't waste all that blood Rinoa practically killed herself giving to you."

Squall paused his efforts then, one foot on the floor, the other still prostrate in its cast on the cot. His eyes narrowed, straining to focus on the different objects in the spinning room, trying to regain some memories of the previous night.

_The chair._ The chair next to his bed. He struggled to see it in a different light. It was dark. Rinoa had been asleep in that same chair next to him, her dark hair splayed across his forearm.

_That machine._ The one now in the corner, silent. It had been beeping all night. Rolled to a convenient position at the foot of his bed. Rinoa again, not resting peacefully but collapsed in exhaustion… a thin tube of red connecting her arm to his that passed through that annoying machine that had beeped all night.

He had forgotten.

"Rinoa…she…" Squall shook his head, one set of fingers attempting to rake through his disheveled hair, trying to physically push away the pain in his head. _'That idiot…'_

"No one asked me. I wouldn't have said yes. I would have been fine."

"You would have been dead if it wasn't for her. Trust me." Zell moved to hook the leg of the wheel chair behind his toes, dragging it towards them as he struggled to keep Squall from tumbling to the floor. "Then again, from what I heard, you're in this state because of her in the first place. An eye for an eye I guess."

"Makes the whole world blind…" Kadowaki entered the small room then, leaning against the threshold with her arms crossed over her massive chest, a sly grin on her thin mouth. "Hey there Mr. Sunshine. Decided to cooperate finally?"

Squall glared at her with as much loathing as he could muster, only succeeding in widening the mad woman's grin.

"It's only for a few days," she reminded him wearily. "Before curing the flesh we need to make sure the bones start to knit naturally. You miraculously managed to splinter both your femur and your pelvis with one bullet, you know? I was quite impressed."

"I'm glad my agony at least served to entertain you…" he mumbled sarcastically in response.

"Like you remember any of that. You had a greater percentage of alcohol than blood in your system by the time I got to you."

"Alcohol?" Zell repeated, his expression a cringe of confusion. "You and Rinoa sure have an original definition of 'camping'."

"It's not what you think, so don't think it," Squall warned. "Quisitis told the medic retrieving me not to bring narcotics."

"What?! Why?"

"The **point** being boys," Kadowaki interrupted, thankfully taking note of Squall's anxious glance. She gave him a brief nod of understanding. "If you want to sit down comfortably ever again, let alone any other activity using that area of the body, you'll do as I say. Take the chair."

"Yeah, take the chair buddy," Zell interjected. His approval was a lot less inspiring than he thought it was.

Squall stared at the wheelchair, then at his thigh carefully swaddled in plaster and gauze, at Kadowaki and then at Zell's hopeful, bright eyes. Finally, a moan of surrender escaped his pale lips.

"Help me into this damn thing, will you?"

Zell's face exploded into a smile.

"And no, you cannot push me."

* * *

Quistis had slept in.

For the first time in her fourteen years at Garden, she had slept in, somehow completely ignorant of the soft alarm-clock radio that usually roused her from even the deepest slumbers. Not to mention her biological clock that every day could sense the exact moment the sun rose and spurred her instantly into her regular morning exercise routine. But not today…

The blonde SeeD was still zipping up the back of her skirt and holding the strap of her briefcase between her teeth as she exited her suite, struggling to close the door behind her with her foot. It was 7:30 am and she was over an hour and a half late for work, practically assuring that she would definitely not be getting those last contracts finished by 0900 like Cid had asked.

Using her fingers to comb through her unusually knotted hair, Quistis sprinted to get the elevator, catching her fingers in between the closing doors to prevent it from leaving without her.

She let out an exhausted giggle of happiness as the doors began to gradually open. Thank Hyne. Something this morning was working in her favor.

At least…that's what she thought.

She struggled to focus on the two blurry forms, one significantly shorter than the other, poised within the elevator.

"Good morning" she greeted cordially while stepping within the claustrophobic tin room, mentally smacking her palm to her forehead as she noted her lack of glasses. At least she had a spare pair in the Commander's desk upstairs.

"Good morning to you too, Quistis."

Her eyes widened in horror. She knew that voice all too well.

She was currently standing in a small, enclosed space with Squall Leonhart; the very subject of her anger, confusion and rather brutal persecution.

Panicked, she impulsively reached for the closing doors. But her sight and thus aim were way off, her haste only granting her a broken nail as it collided with solid metal.

Too late.

Her pulse quickened to an alarming rate. She wasn't ready for this confrontation. Not here, not now. Especially not when she hadn't showered, nor slept and could barely see. She struggled to focus on the button panel, knowing that she could easily get off on the second floor and pretend she had a class.

Yet again, too late. The elevator chimed as they passed the second floor, cutting off the only other escape route. Now she would either have to get off on third like him, or prove herself to be a complete coward and head back down to the dorms.

Sweat was gathering on her brow. She could practically feel him burning holes into her back with his eyes. Decision, decisions. What to do?

Another chime rang out and she felt the elevator slow as it approached its destination: the third floor. She watched in horror as the doors slowly opened, revealing to her weak eyes the plush red carpet and the various mahogany doors that led to the administrator offices extension. She stood frozen, completely at a loss at what to do while blocking the exit to those other occupants of the elevator.

Only when the doors began to close again did she react, stepping forward so that the sensors acknowledged her presence. Another hand had also reached out then, pressing against the frames to keep them apart. Quistis' breath caught in her throat.

She couldn't bring herself to face him. Not yet.

"You okay Quisty?"

"Hmm?" it was another familiar voice, but not the one she so feared. Daring a glance at him through her peripheral vision, it was revealed to be not the angry expression of the brunette she dreaded, but the distinct outline of a black facial tattoo and tall spikes of blonde hair. Characteristics of only one other male who'd have access to Garden's third floor.

"Zell!" she exclaimed happily, wanting to fling her arms around him but not trusting herself to not accidentally slap him in the face. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Balamb for the week?"

"Yeah, well, that was the plan. That is until I got called in for babysitter duty for this idiot. Heh. **Oww**!" she heard a loud thwack and jumped back in alarm, finally fully outside of the elevator. "Geez you're violent today!"

"You asked for it," she heard Squall say, followed by the squeak of un-greased wheels as he exited the lift. Quistis cringed. Nothing short of a serious injury would put Squall at the mercy of a wheelchair. "I said I don't need you. And if you dare refer to forcing your pestering self upon my schedule as 'babysitting' again, then I will shoot you."

"Glad to know my help is appreciated." Zell grumbled while rubbing his calf.

Qusitis bit her lip as she watched the Commander's figure roll past her and down the hallway. He was in a bad mood, obviously, and probably would be for quite some time in fact. All the more reason to make the complaint against his actions official, sooner rather than later. She couldn't avoid him forever.

"Squall. Wait." She jogged to catch up with him, faster on wheels than he was on his feet. By the time she arrived at his side she was out of breath. "You-you still have a weeks worth of vacation left."

"Thank you for reminding me Ms. Trepe" he said with an eerie tone of forced cheerfulness. "But seeing as I am temporarily unable to even shower by myself, I think it's safe to say that my vacation's shot to hell. Don't you think?"

"Whoa," Zell exclaimed in shock from somewhere behind them. "No one told me I had to help him shower?"

"Don't you dare try to pin this one on me Leonhart" Quisitis rebutted, feeling the anger begin to boil in her chest. "You're the one who went against the Policy."

"I mean, feeding him I could deal with. Getting him in and out of bed? No problem. But I did not know about the showering."

"The Policy is absurd and you know it."

"Fine. Forget the Policy. Let's bring up the completely separate issue, as a regular SeeD, of you giving an unlicensed civilian an automatic weapon to play- _OUF_!" Quistis, too caught up in the argument and not paying enough attention to curves of the hallway had ended up walking straight into a thick tapestry frame hanging on the wall. In an instant, the whole piece came crashing down on her in a flurry of heavy fabric as she scrambled to regain her footing.

Squall, still far enough ahead of her to have avoided being caught in the scuffle, rolled his eyes in annoyance while rotating his chair to face the disaster. Waiting.

"Holy! Quisty, you ok?" Zell rushed to her aid, struggling to pull the pounds of fabric off his colleague.

"I'm fine!" called her muffled voice; her scrambling form was an animated bump in the artwork. Like a mouse under the carpet.

Squall smirked. It was a small but still amusing form of karmic justice.

"Forget your glasses by any chance Quistis?" he called innocently, stifling a laugh as she finally found an exit, her hair standing on ends by static electricity. She hastily patted it down.

"As a matter of fact, yes. But I have a spare in my office."

"_My_ office," he corrected her. "You can get your glasses then get out." He re-angled his chair and once again began speeding away towards the end of the hall.

"It's my office for now. You shouldn't even be up here anyway!" she yelled to his retreating form, taking a moment to make sure her uniform skirt was straight before even attempting to catch up. "I'm still acting Commander for the next 6 days. You'll muck up the schedule if you start back now. Xu is currently using my desk." Not to mention she had emailed Cid last night about a recommended suspension of his administrative privileges until the event could be properly investigated. And he should be resting anyway. For all these reasons, she hadn't expected him to visit his office today. She wasn't ready.

"Don't sweat it Quisty," Zell said from somewhere to her right. "He promised me and Kadowaki to spend at least the rest of the week in his apartment. But that didn't stop him from wanting to pick some stuff up to work on. No matter how lame it is."

"It's my office," they heard him call from around the bend "I can enter it when I want."

When the rolling Commander finally came back into their field of vision, both Zell and Quistis let out a simultaneous gasp of alarm. Somehow he had made it half out of his chair, stretching awkwardly up in order to fit his hand into the bio-scanner lock that was more two feet out of his seated reach.

"Squall! Wait!" the blonde ex-instructor yelped, her steps quickening.

"Yeah man. You're totally gonna burst your stitches!" Zell added.

He ignored them. Besides, as was confirmed upon the door finally swinging open, he figured that Quistis had other reasons for not wanting him to enter the office yet. And it had nothing to do with struggling for the lock and hurting himself.

The room was a mess. Not in the way it often was when he and Rinoa had a particularly large amount of Council requests to fill and papers covered the floor to be reviewed. No. This was a very different type of messy.

All of his and Rinoa's stuff from their trip…every article they had collected and anything personal they had brought along, everything had each been dissected and labeled with exhibit numbers, taking up every inch of desk, shelf and floor space. Even the decrepit stuffed animal Rinoa had salvaged from the orphanage, thinking it may have some sentimental value to one of the elite group, had been stripped of its encasing fabric and the stuffing pulled apart.

"You've been busy I see…" Squall commented over his shoulder, cringing as his eyes wandered over the chaos and noting how even his and Rinoa's toiletries had been emptied and analyzed. Getting toothpaste stains out of a sofa was bound to be difficult.

"Woah! What the hell happened here?" Zell couldn't help but exclaim upon seeing the disaster zone. "Spring cleaning? In summer? Really later spring cleaning?" he suggested "That or a really good party?"

"Squall will meet you downstairs Zell," Quistis stated while gracelessly trying to push him out the door as fast as possible. "I'll help him back into the elevator."

"Uhh…you did just walk into a wall Quisty," he reminded her sullenly. "You don't give a puppy to someone who kills their plants."

"What?"

"Go Zell," Squall asserted in that no-nonsense, non-questioning tone of his. "I didn't need you to get around so far and I doubt I'll need you when retracing my steps. Or tracks in this case."

"But- **OW**!" Another kick in the shin, this time by his female superior. "Geez, is it like get-abused-by-your-admins day at Garden? Gah…"

"Just testing my vision," she excused with a guiltless smile. "Squall will be down in five minutes," she was about to close the door but then re-considered. "Make it ten minutes."

Before the martial artist could protest, the door was firmly closed in his face, un-enterable unless by someone having the right bio signature to scan. They were finally alone. Two shades of intense blue eyes glared at each other. Then again, from what she could see, he may very well be staring at his feet. But she assumed not.

The debate was inevitable.

"You gave me no choice Squall," she insisted firmly. "I had to pull a lot of strings to let the Council release Rinoa outside of Garden in your care. You changed locations without informing anyone and then you go and encourage the exact thing everyone's afraid of…Rinoa hurting people. Rinoa _killing_ people; important people such as yourself."

"It was an accident," he affirmed for what felt like the fiftieth time. "She wanted to try another weapon. We had nothing better to do. You are reading way too much into it. We both know, everyone who's ever met Rinoa knows, that she did not do this on purpose."

"That's not the point! Do you have any idea how this looks?" she moved to follow him as he rolled himself around the space, checking out all the items she had disfigured. "The supposedly strongest and most dedicated soldier in all the Gardens, letting his guard down and getting hit by the sorceress we've spent so much time and energy trying to convince is harmless? Especially in relation to you. Regardless of risking your job and Garden's reputation, you've risked Rinoa's life!"

"Hmph…" he arrived at his desk, this surface littered with special interest items he had he collected from Odin's Tower and the orphanage. A plate, a locket, what looked like a silver gravy boat, a spoon, an empty jewelry box, another unrecognizable toy; the few pieces that had been in good enough condition to travel with. And these random trinkets were supposed to be the proof that he was a traitor. That he was unfit to administer at Garden just because of a stupid location switch and field accident. It was ridiculous.

The sad thing was, with a convincing enough report from Quistis, triggering the Council's already unstable suspicions, he was sure to be demoted upon their evaluation. And demotion wasn't an option. He needed to be on the Council, needed to be kept abreast of their scheming. It was the only way to keep her safe.

"We won't tell them," he decided finally, his fingers lingering on the ruby of the locket. "In a few days the wound will be closed enough for a cure spell to make me good as new. We just won't tell the Council. No one has to know about Rinoa's involvement."

"Squall…" Quistis growled in her low, authoritative voice. "We can't do that. The Angelica Policy firmly states that-"

"The Policy _this_, the Policy _that_. That document is more trouble than it's worth," he interrupted hotly. That stupid pile of paper sentenced them to having to report their every move, every sneeze, to the Council. And in exchange for what? It was inefficient, unfair and highly unnecessary. "In fact, I'm getting rid of it."

"Squall you can't!" she watched with wide, horrified eyes as he actually rolled towards the filing cabinet, using his thumb print to unlock the bottom, private drawer used for the most delicate of contracts. "That Policy was formed by the World Consul Squall. Cid signed it in Balamb Garden's name. So did we! You don't have the authority to-"

"To rip it in half?" it was easy enough to pluck to specific, heavy document from the pile, it being only one of four such private folders. "Lucky for me, I didn't get shot in the hands."

Without her glasses, Quisits could hardly see the wheeled figure before her, let alone if he was indeed making do on his threat. But there was no time to pretend to call his potential bluff. It was too risky. "Be reasonable Squall," she practically begged. "The Angelica Policy is a safety net. We are trained to consider every angle. To expect the unexpec-"

"Qusitis…you just walked into a tapestry."

She scoffed at this, forcing herself to stand straighter and focus her sight as directly as possible on his hazy silhouette. "Please don't tell me you're trying to relate me forgetting my glasses to you handing the world's most dangerous sociopath a gunbl-"

"DON'T!" Squall yelled in interruption, suddenly furious. It was one thing for those who had never met Rinoa to call her names, their opinions based purely on the facts from the history books. But it was quite another for one of her supposed close friends to do it. "Don't you dare ever call her that! I'm destroying the Policy. It will no longer be applied here at Balamb Garden."

Quistis took a few decisive steps towards him, being careful not to trip on the junk on the floor. "Just like that huh?" she paused to unravel a black tank top from her heel. "You'll put your job in jeopardy, all of Garden in jeopardy? Once the consul finds out what you've done, that they've lost you to her, they'll only want to restrict her further."

"She's a human being. It's not about taking sides, it's about basic rights."

"You think they won't hunt her down if she leaves these walls? No matter how well you've groomed her to defend herself and answer questions in the politically correct manner, that won't do much against a mob of thousands of scared citizens. Which is what she faces if you destroy that contract!"

"We can't live like this anymore!" Squall answered passionately. "I can't have my colleagues _torturing_ me whenever Rinoa makes a simple mistake in an attempt to veer off the path _we_ chose. It's been long enough. I can't babysit her forever."

"Who's asking you to?" Quistis rebutted, her voice also rising in pitch to match the Commander's. "You didn't need to make her your assistant. You didn't need to take her to Centra and lend her your weapon for kicks. In fact, except for your skewed psychological reasoning, there's no reason not to simply explain all this to her!"

"What am I suppose to do then?" This conversation was definitely ranking in the top five more frustrating of his life. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. The thick paper of the Policy hung heavily in hands, reeking of divergence and ultimatums. "Am I supposed to let her wander around aimlessly, waiting until she loses her mind and tries to massacre everybody out of sheer boredom? She needs a better life than that. And I've been killing myself trying to give her that."

"Your job isn't to preserve her quality of life." She reminded him, taking yet another shaky step forward through the rubble of their clothing. The Policy was in his lap still, thankfully untouched. "Your job is to supervise her, report on the development of her powers and keep her docile. That's all of our jobs."

"Yeah well," reluctantly, he slapped the document back into the cabinet. It didn't take long to deduce that so directly defying the Council would do more harm than good. But still, he was far from happy with the unavoidable outcome of this meeting. "As far as jobs go, this one sucks."

"I agree."

Two pairs of blue eyes whipped to the doorway to see Rinoa, the dark-haired subject of their argument, standing awkwardly on the threshold. She was paler than usual and her right hand was wrapped tightly in bandages, holding a silver tray of breakfast accoutrements. Otherwise she was dressed in her usual primp grey suit, ready to wait on the Commander as she had almost every day for the past year. She giggled awkwardly if only to fill the silence before taking the first few steps into the office toward her desk.

"I figured you'd come in, despite Kadowaki's warnings." She chuckled again uncomfortably, readjusting her grip on the tray before placing it daintily on what little clear surface there was on her desk. "I-I thought you'd want some coffee. Always helps me after a binge."

Quistis and Squall exchanged brief, panicked glances.

"How much did you hear?" he asked finally, taking a moment to swallow the large lump that had developed in his throat.

"Oh. Enough." She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth, eyes burning despite all attempts to remain placid. Though she had hoped things may change after this trip with Squall…who knew that she'd discover this? It explained so much. "So, now that I know. Can I at least be informed as to what are the other restrictions of this Angelica Policy?"

The administrators shared another inquisitive glance. Squall's eyes narrowed in warning, causing Qusitis to sigh in aggravation.

"Rinoa…we can't just-"

"Dammit Quistis, **please**!" she cut in, her voice having somehow gained a shocking resonance. "**If you have even one smidgeon of compassion in that bleached, empty head of yours you'll tell me **_**exactly**_** what this all means**! **Hyne knows he never will.**"

Involuntarily Rinoa felt her heart begin to race, the emotions fueling her power as it always did. Her clenched fists began to crackle and spark; the beginnings of a thundaga spell that could very well rip this entire room to pieces. It wasn't meant to be a threat or anything, she couldn't exactly control it, but the delicious fear in both their eyes made her swallow any potential apology.

"Please…" she repeated more quietly to be cordial, but also in a tone that hinted more to a demand than a request.

Quistis began nodding in careful agreement, blocking out the desperate whispers to stop from her colleague. Rinoa had heard too much anyway, what was the harm in revealing the rest? At least Squall definitely wouldn't advertise to the Council her breaking of the secrecy agreement, for his ranting was as much to blame.

"We're not supposed to let you out of Garden. It's not a suggested precaution as Squall has implied. We're to stop you by force if necessary," she explained in what she hoped was a casual, calm tone. "The exception to the rule being if you are supervised by an elite SeeD. But this requires advance permission of the Council and _exact_ details of where, when and why. We appreciate you telling us of the development of your powers, but we've also been having you analyzed during your check ups."

"You mean," Rinoa gulped, the sparks between her fingers dying as anger turned to sorrow. "Kadowaki…"

Quistis cleared her throat awkwardly. "She tranquilizes you for interrogation. She collects blood, skin and hair samples to be sent to Dr. Odine. There's also video surveillance from your dorm room and this office."

"You know…if you had bothered to ask, I would gladly-"

Quisits shook her head, interrupting. "The Council didn't want to give you any advance warning. Some sorceresses are shape shifters as you know…they didn't want you to change and hide something. Squall also trains you so that we can keep tabs on how strong your magic is. He has a weekly report to fill for that. And then there's the…_other_ section…" her gaze wandered over to the rigid man beside her. She gestured to him with her open palm, silently prompting him to continue should he see fit. "The rest is up to the **author** to tell you."

"Author?..." Rinoa repeatedly quietly, her glassy eyes slowly moving toward her seated boss. "What-what does she…"

"Ignore her," Squall interjected, rolling closer while glaring at his colleague for her lack of tact. "They included some of my recommendations. That doesn't make me the author."

"I'm not going to _conveniently _censor your participation Squall," Quistis warned him irritably. "She deserves more than that after the hell you've put her through."

She followed the path of his chair to approach the sorceress, still frozen beside her desk. "The point of the Policy was to observe. To always have someone with their eye on you. You could have lived anywhere and done whatever you wanted but with a guard and surveillance. We all agreed to it. But it was Squall who insisted it needed to be Garden and only Balamb Garden, restricting you to the grounds. They didn't want you having anything to do with the army governing, but he bartered by adding an entire section for your socialization progress. A ten year plan."

"Shut up Quistis." The Commander warned in a dangerously low snarl.

"Wha-what does that mean? Squall?"

"The Policy is ridiculous. I came up here to destroy it. It was written a year ago when we were all still scared and panicked about the future. What does it matter what it includes?"

"So you did write it?" she concluded, her heart feeling tighter with every word. "What does that mean, socialization section? What does that mean Quistis?" her eyes flickered up to the blonde. "What does that mean?"

"The _Council_ wrote it," Squall interjected, placing his chair between the two women to cut off any potential advances in the conversation "Don't listen to her." Looking up at Rinoa he swiftly took her hands in his, always the sure fire way of getting her attention. As expected, her eyes flew to meet his. "I am on the Council. You know that. It's nothing new. You know you're a subject at meetings. The original Policy to just spit you out into the world was just a politically correct way of sending you to your death at the hands of citizens or assassins! You know I had to say things to stop the vote and for us to stay close. To protect you. It's all to protect you. It's all I do."

"Things? What things?" Rinoa practically hissed at him. Her hands in his began to warm again, nearly sizzling with anger. How dare he touch her right now.

"It's a step by step, month by month plan of distracting you," Quisits explained from behind him, causing Squall to suck in his breath and drop his head in defeat. Rinoa was successfully diverted and her hands violently writhed themselves free of his grasp. He could do nothing more but close his eyes and listen.

"Please…" Rinoa asked as a prompt to continue.

Quistis nodded. "He's been researching past Knights and managed to convince the Council that you are less likely to crack while in Squall's possession. Garden and he get to watch you while your connection to each other, which he carefully prunes, makes you mentally and therefore physically unwilling to leave. He keeps you busy with assignments, balls, trips, training and the possibility of an actual life, even though he has no intention of ever letting you close and risk you taking over his mind." She took a deep breath after finishing, her gaze never moving from Rinoa's, hoping to somehow convey her sympathy.

"She's not explaining it right. It's not like that at all," Squall tried to interject, but the two women ignored him, never lowering their eyes from over his head. "I had to have a reason to keep you here! And I had to prove that it wasn't because of any personal feelings. The rest is bullshit!"

"It's quite an interesting read actually…" Quistis continued to relentlessly dig his grave. "Elaborate psychological manipulation. He had Dr. Odine in as a consult and witness. A platonic Knight is deemed to have the most power in the world, for he controls his sorceress by denying her needs yet constantly implying the impending possibility."

"Huh. You don't say?" Rinoa nodded slowly in stunned understanding. "So I guess…you weren't visiting just your sister on those trips to Esthar huh?"

"It's more complicated than that. It was just a theory. A _stupid_ theory of Odine's. It doesn't work. I know that now."

"So, as I understand," as sorrow switched back to anger, finally giving her control over the shaking of her voice, her eyes then began to leak relentlessly with tears. Damn it. "Everything. This job, the balls, our outings…every minute we've spent together has been…_staged_ to keep me occupied and distracted by… basically I- I'm chasing a dangling carrot while running on a conveyor belt?"

"You know that's not true…" Squall whispered angrily, the cartoonish visual provoking a deeper scowl. "I've been trying to keep you alive while _trying _to make you happy…"

"Happy?" she laughed at this. Honestly, it was the most hilarious she had ever heard him say. "You think I'm happy? I'd be happier knowing my friends, well, my supposed friends, were being honest with me. I'd be happier if you just told me a **year ago** that we had no chance. I mean- I can't believe it's actually written down somewhere…and-and promised to the entire World Council that-That…that you…we can never…" she giggled again, taking a moment to wipe at the relentless streams snaking their way down her cheeks. "It's a basically a plan for me to die while waiting for my life to begin…"

"We are sorry Rinoa," Quistis stated in the least apologetic tone she had ever heard. "It's needlessly complicated, I agree. But I also agree," she notably took a step forward to be at Squall's side, hoping to promote a united front in the Policy's defense. "You are safest within these walls. And there was no easy way to convince them that we wouldn't turn due to your influence. The secrecy was for your peace of mind and to quell the Council's fear of you somehow subverting them. It's been both for you and our protection. You understand? "

"Oh," Rinoa nodded vigorously in false gratitude. "For my safety. I-I get it."

And she did get it.

It was hard to swallow but she did understand. As painful as it was to digest the idea of Squall so ruthlessly playing off her emotions, at least it was all in the good name of wanting to keep her alive. But who knows why he even wanted that? " I…I just thought…I was here because-cause you guys just really liked me. Heh."

"Rinoa…" Squall began. But that's as far as he could get. No other words would come out. His head titled and his shoulders rose, hoping that she'd translate some sort of positive explanation from the vague gesture. There was more to it. She had to know there was more. But not now, not in front of Quistis.

With his eyes he begged her to understand…to be patient before coming to conclusions.

The sorceress only nodded once more, a sad smile gracing her features. "I get it. Don't worry. I get it!…" slowly, carefully, with shaking hands she removed the coffee pot and the plate of muffins off the tray and onto her desk. As much as she couldn't stand another second of being in that room, she wanted at least to make sure he kept his strength up. It was indeed unhealthy how much she cared for the man, despite everything. Unhealthy and unnatural. "So…Squall…"

"Yes?" he responded hesitantly, wincing slightly in apprehension. Rinoa would sometimes bruise his shoulder just for critiquing her penmanship. Who knew what this revelation would lead to…?

"If you don't mind," she took a moment to purse her lips, eyes scanning the room to take in the decor for, what she hoped, would be the last time. "I don't think I want to be your assistant anymore. Is that okay? Will the Council approve?"

Out of all the reactions he had come to expect from her, this one was, for whatever reason, not on the list.

"I…I guess. But-"

"Good. No hard feelings," she took back the now empty tray and hugged it to her chest while backing slowly towards the exit. "I-I'm just gonna go lie down. I'm not feeling too well."

And with those final words, she spun on her heels and ran. Ran as fast as she could toward the elevators.

It was decided then. The moment her feet hit the floor of her dorm room, she would never leave it. It wasn't the change she'd been hoping for but, at least, maybe then _Squall_ could finally be happy: guaranteed of her physical safety all while never having to actually deal with her.

Thanks to the Angelica Policy, legislated by her supposed Knight, hiding was her only viable option. Especially since she now honestly feared killing the man, a crime of passion/desperation/hopelessness, if he dared to show his face.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Teehee! This is my last pre-written chapter from back in the day, but over the midterm break, I've actually managed to pump another two out. (Manic giggling ensues). Can't wait to hear you guys' reactions to what happens next. I think my family finds me extremely pathetic, having spent an entire weekend at the cottage glued to my computer – writing not the great Canadian novel but fanfiction. Apparently that's weird for a twenty-two year old who's finishing up University.

Tell that to all the great, rich and famous fanfiction writers out there! (crickets)

Anyway…

Also note, this story will soon move from a T rating to M for mature. Please remember to either add me to alerts or search story rating "all" when on the main section page.


	9. Change

_Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine. _

**-- Robert C. Gallagher**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 9: …_Change_ …

With attempted indifference, Quistis watched as the heavy-duty shredder mangled and ate the once proud and prominent Angelica Policy into a fine dust. There was no point waiting for Cid's permission. The longer she kept it around, the longer it tugged at her mind; a giant stamped, sealed and signed reminder that, in a way, she had betrayed them all, the entire Council.

_'Don't think about it…'_ she was forced to remind herself. There was still much to be done, much that could rectify the situation and would hopefully result in both her and Squall keeping their jobs. _And_ Rinoa's residency of course.

For what were friends for if not at least making some minute effort to save you from a potentially horrible and gruesome public execution? That or worse. Being frozen was still a viable option. Or maybe locked in a glass cell in Odine's lab.

'_No'_. Quisitis shook her head to more firmly establish her decision. Rinoa would not be punished for this. It wasn't fair.

Squall was right. They didn't have to tell the Council _exactly_ how he had earned that injury. There were more than enough incompetent yet hopeful gunblade cadets to blame it on. Telling them would only lead to unnecessary drama and, not to mention, increase the guilt that was already threatening to bury her alive.

The Angelica Policy would be redrafted merely because it didn't work and was unnecessary. She would use her carefully toned skills of persuasion and detail crafting to good use and make the revamped restrictions as simple and honest as possible yet still fully catering to the world leaders' paranoia. It would take time and work and patience but…

She dared a glance from where she sat at the Commander's chair to the smaller work station near the entrance. All of Rinoa's things, pictures, pencils and lip balms, were already in a crate merely waiting to be dropped off. The sight couldn't help but force a twang of compassion out of even the most aloof of people.

It couldn't be helped, she felt bad for the girl. And not in the way you feel bad for a child you see drop their ice cream in the sand on a hot day (though that sucks), nor even someone who just realized they locked their keys in the car (though that _really _sucks). This was the type of pity usually reserved for comrades on their death bed - slowly becoming paralyzed, the light gradually fading from their eyes, simply waiting for the inevitable conclusion of their heart stopping entirely.

It must have felt…she couldn't even imagine what it could feel like to discover such things, so appalling, and all at once.

But at least now she knew. No more pathetic and fruitless pining over a man who was bound by both fate and his own crass attitude to die miserable and alone. As a woman to a woman, she honestly considered the girl to be better off. You don't fall in love with men like Squall Leonhart. You can't. Not if you wanted to keep your sanity in check.

With a loud exhale, Quisits allowed herself to lean back into the plush leather chair, bringing up her hands to link behind her head while surveying the only slightly improved office mess. Despite fifteen minutes of tidying.

He would be "resting" in his apartment for at least the next three days, giving her more than enough time to straighten things out. Both literally and figuratively. She needed to talk to Cid. She needed to write the Council. She needed to eat something.

Pushing the pile of unedited contracts, the ones she had been so desperate to attend to, off the cluttered surface of the desk, the determined SeeD reached for the keyboard and brought it towards her.

It was far from too late to redeem herself.

* * *

"You know Zell…" Squall began while carefully trying to maneuver his chair into his suite as smoothly as possible. This was a rather difficult feat considering the overlapping obstacles of a heavy door, wheels that just barely made it through the gap leaving no place for his hands and, not to mention, the ridiculous ground bump that was present it every doorway despite its uselessness. "I think I've proven myself able get around, have I not? You don't have to shadow me. In fact, I'd prefer if you didn't. _You'd_ prefer if you didn't. So, by that reasoning, if you don't, then everyone wins."

"Your logic is flawless Commander, as always," Zell replied with an obviously sardonic lilt. He was leaning against the wall opposite Squall's doorway, his grin widening with every passing second as his colleague desperately tried to gain to momentum to cross the threshold.

Squalls was leaning back as far as he could within the chair, his good leg stuck out to keep the door open and his hands reaching back to grasp non-wedged wheel. Perhaps, at his full strength, he could have managed to inch himself forward and over the bump with little more than that. But, alas, with the culmination of the headache, the lack of sleep and the general weakness that came with being wounded, all his intense effort did nothing more than jostle his injury – enticing an intense wave of pain that may have indeed sent him screaming if it weren't for the happy blue pills Kadowaki had been merciful enough to supply him with.

With a quiet moan of frustration, he brought his hands back into his lap and righted himself. Of course, he had had to promote his independence now: at the first example of something stupid his invalid-self could not accomplish. He could practically feel Zell's triumphant smirk boring into his back.

"Need help?" he suggested with mock innocence.

Squall's fists clenched.

"If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to tell anyone. I'll spread only boastful tales of your heroic journey through the door of destiny!"

"Zell…" Squall growled in warning.

"Well you could at least say _please_? Is that so much to-"

"Zell!"

"Fine, fine." He gave the chair a firm shove, easily dislodging him from the doorway. The millisecond they cleared the gap, Squall hand his hands back on the wheels and was firmly catapulting himself out of his friend's reach into the center of the living room.

"Now," he spun around easily, like a carefully choreographed exercise, to face his colleague and prove that he did indeed have complete control over the contraption. Despite the door issue. "I'm here. I'm safe. I have my pills. I have my communicator. I have what is left of my dignity. Go home. Enjoy the rest of your vacation."

Zell stared at him skeptically, his eyes darting around the room at the many other obstacles Squall was bound to come up against sooner rather than later. Though he had never been inside Squall's suite before, it was not unlike his own: much, much larger than the average dorms, still simple and yet stylishly difficult to navigate. While the living room was the center, all other areas (including the bathroom, the kitchenette, the home office and the bedroom) were on platforms of varying height overlooking the core space. Though this made the suite much more efficient with the semblance of closed rooms through the platform partitions and enclosing banisters, the design involved one, deadly element to the injured.

Stairs.

Everywhere, one or two or three stairs between every level. At the moment, Squall was literally penned in the living space – his only tools being the couch and the TV, and he could bet that Squall only turned it on once a year. Even then, probably just to watch the news.

"Hell. No." was Zell's indubitable answer.

He could see it now: the moment he left, Squall would attempt to get himself up the stairs – either to the bathroom, or the bedroom or, most probably, the office computer. It was just in his nature. One misstep would lead to tearing, bone re-shattering and, even if he did somehow get to the phone, an untimely death – the cause of which would be catalogued forever as 'stubbornness/idiocy'.

"I said, _go enjoy your vacation_" Squall repeated in his patented chilly tone which perfectly matched the coldness of his eyes. "It wasn't a request."

"Squall there is no freakin way you can get around this place _with_ the chair. And, as Kadowaki firmly stated, there is no safe way for you to move about _without_ the chair."

"I'll get by," he insisted.

"You'll get dead," Zell rebutted. "Suck it up! You're stuck with me."

"You don't have the authority to overrule me. As Commander I'm ordering you to-"

"As your _friend_ I feel the need to remind you that I am on leave. You are on leave too. We're not doing anything SeeD related here so drop it. And, even if that were not the case, even if this were an assignment…" he came closer, leaning forward with his hands on his knees so that they were eye level; icy azure glaring menacingly at ocean blue. "I still wouldn't go. And, not to mention, this whole thing is on Kadowaki's orders who, by seniority, outranks you. So ha. Deal with it."

The glaring continued, one of them hoping that he could throw people with only sheer force of will and the other just plainly amused by staring contests.

"I can do this alllll day…" Zell warned him after a solid minute had passed. In response to which Squall none-too-subtly rolled forward, directly over his contender's foot.

"OW! What- What the HELL man?" he automatically leapt backwards, bringing his foot to his hands and urgently massaging it. "What is WRONG with you?"

"Sorry. Accident."

"Like hell it was!"

"You're right, it wasn't," he admitted gladly. "But it won't happen again if you don't antagonize me."

"Point taken…ack! That's gonna leave a mark." Zell eyed his friend with a newfound trepidation. As his banter had at first gone ignored back in the day, it later spurred idle threats and now had apparently upgraded to violence. He definitely, at least not today, did not want to discover the next level of Leonhart's senseless fury. It seemed to just be getting worse with every passing month. "Tell me what you need, and I'll set you up _then_ leave you alone. Okay? Geez…"

Squall nodded, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He did enjoy winning.

"I need to get the stink of last night off of me," he said simply. Zell nodded in understanding.

"Bathroom is it." He approached the chair with an exaggerated limp and a loud wince. "That is if I don't need a wheelchair myself now."

It took all of the Commander's resolve to not reverse over the other foot.

In a few careful, tilted movements, Zell had his boss clumsily positioned on the tiny room's threshold, up two stairs and right off the kitchen.

"Ummm…" he took a moment to scan the cramped, sterilized area, noting with a cringe the miniscule shower stall. Definitely not wheelchair accommodating. "I-I guess…I can…hold you up?…and…I'll…close my eyes. And we never mention it again, ever. Like, _ever_ ever. Maybe we could sign a contract confirming-"

"I'm fine Zell." Squall interrupted, the hostility still ever-present in his tone. "Go away."

"Oh thank Hyne," he let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and took a large, grateful step back into the kitchen. "Not that I wouldn't have if you needed! But, yeah. A little too high on the male bonding scale for me. I'll just be-"

"Goodbye Zell!" Squall yelled before slamming the door in the blonde's face. With a growl of aggravation he angled himself towards the sink, for the first time thankful that Cid had given him one of the largest suite models available. At least this waste-of-space bathroom was easy to navigate while confined to the chunky metal atrocity.

In an awkward act of leaning and balancing, he somehow managed to reach the faucets of the sink, blasting it as hot as it would go. Another uncomfortable maneuver later and he had the soap. In the chair he was too low to the ground to actually see what he was doing, but the feeling of dirt and blood and grime relinquishing their hold on his fingers was superb. It was the first and only moment of relief he had felt since waking.

"_I'm_ _making us smoooooothies!_" he heard Zell yell in a sing song voice followed by the tell tale whirl of the blender.

Squall sighed and leaned his head against the front edge of the sink cabinet. He was not at all surprised but still disappointed that Zell wasn't taking his commands to get lost seriously. He also wouldn't be surprised if, upon exiting, he found smoothie remnants on every surface of his kitchen, including the ceiling.

"_Whoops_!" he heard his jailer exclaim a second later. "_Squall, where do ya keep your paper_ _towels_?"

In the privacy of the bathroom, the Commander allowed himself a few whimpers of pity for his situation, silently asking Hyne what he did to deserve this.

"_Found em'! Don't worry! Just tell me when you wanna get out. You alive in there?" _

"Ten minutes," Squall called back, his voice low and desperate. "Just give me ten minutes of quiet. Okay?"

"_Sure thing man. I'll just watch some TV."_

Squall was about to protest, needlessly reminding his idiot inferior that the now blasting race car match was in fact the exact opposite of "quiet", but he then considered that it was a far better alternative than listening to Zell rant while slowly wrecking his apartment. He decided not to look the gift horse in the mouth, whatever that meant, and focused instead on getting the mud from under his nails.

With his hands occupied and his eyes sick of staring at the dark wood of the cabinet, Squall then made the mistake of letting his gaze wander. An actual gasp fell out of his lips as he caught a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror on the back of the door.

The cleaning was forgotten as he slowly, cautiously, rolled himself toward the glassy surface to get a better view of the homeless-looking figure that used to be the proud Commander Leonhart. Thank goodness he had gotten himself out of the infirmary before the cadets woke up. Thank goodness Quistis had forgotten her glasses. It would have been hard to act stern in front of her ever again if he knew that she knew how grossly pathetic he looked.

His skin was waxy, sallow and crusted in places with blood and dirt from his multiple falls in the flower field. Dark rings enveloped his unusually bright and bloodshot eyes that looked glassy in contrast to the dull grayness of the rest of his body, the effect unaided by the drab infirmary scrubs. The thick cast on his upper thigh made it look like he was wearing half a thick diaper under the cotton pants. And his hair…oh Hyne.

Despite the shame his reflection caused, Squall dared to lean in closer to survey the damage. The usually light brown strands were now matted and dark – caked with blood and mud like the rest of him but also pieces of grass and other suspicious looking materials. He didn't even want to think of what.

It would take nothing less than an hour-long shower, multiple fine tooth combs and some industrial strength horse mane shampoo to sort out the rats nest. No wonder Zell wouldn't leave. He was indeed a disgusting mess that looked barely able to lift a fork let alone get around the apartment.

With another groan of frustration, Squall leaned back in the chair and considered his options. He had been planning to clean himself up with nothing more than a few face cloths and the sink. But now that he saw extent of his dishevelment, he found that to now be impossible.

Zell had offered to help him into the shower. It was an embarrassing and definitely most discouraged alternative, but it was still an option. Luckily, it was far from the only one.

Squall reviewed the mirror one last time before coming to a decision, watching his reflection nod as a self-confirmation. Backing up, he brought himself back to the sink cabinet and yanked open the top drawer. His toiletry utensils, as usual, were aligned perfectly within the space. His couldn't keep his fingers from shaking as he slowly reached for the scissors, giving himself as much time as possible to change his mind, to call Zell in for help.

Alas, after he unwillingly began to review all the horrifyingly embarrassing things that had happened within the last 24 hours (the thigh operation of Kadowaki, the drinking, the throwing up, the being carried by Kayle, the chair, the conversation with Quistis – all witnessed by Rinoa) he knew he couldn't face another. Not today. It would break his mind. And, quite possibly, disintegrate what was left of his confidence.

And he needed his confidence. Both Rinoa and Garden depended on it.

With a final, deep exhale to expel all remaining hesitation, Squall grabbed the scissors and rolled back to the mirror. As horrible as looking at himself was, it would be that much worse if he didn't at least try to make things even.

Grabbing a handful of the matted tuft that had once been his hair, Squall made the first cut less than an inch from his scalp.

____

"Go! Go! Go!" Zell was yelling at the screen, begging the red car in 2nd place to at least attempt overshooting the 1st. It was times like these that practically confirmed that the races were rigged. Why else would he be driving like a turtle when so close to the finish line?

"You dumbass!" he shouted as yet another opportunity went unattended by the now-established-as-retarded racer.

He heard the bathroom door opening and cursed the Commander's horrible timing. "I'll be there in a sec buddy," he called from over his shoulder "there's like 30 second left!"

"No problem. I'll just sit here wasting my valuable time while you finish up your idiotainment there."

"Idiotainment?" Zell questioned, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Entertainment for idiots," Squall clarified.

"You've been spending too much time with Rinoa," he giggled while reaching for the controller. It was obvious how the race would end anyway. "Next thing you know, you'll be calling everyone 'meany', asking random girls to dance through hypnosis, wearing sky blue suitssss-…"

The words died on his lips the moment he saw his friend, poised patiently on the threshold of the bathroom. No longer looking like a refugee but also, in the extreme, looking a lot less like himself.

"What. Did. You do?" Zell whispered in a panicked undertone.

Squall simply shrugged. "I'm sorry if my cleanliness disturbs you. Maybe for your birthday I'll roll around in a swamp just for old times' sake. Now can you please do the only thing you're currently useful for and get me out of this room?"

With tentative footsteps, the blonde SeeD approached, half expecting to be randomly tackled by this version of Squall who had quite obviously busted a fuse somewhere.

"Soooo uh..." he thought carefully of the words to use. Nothing too stern, but nothing too soft. "New look for you. I thought such excessive reactions to a bad day were reserved for pre-pubescent girls?"

"My nickname was once 'puberty boy' as you remember. Just living up to the hype."

"Uh-huh…" in a few inventive movements, the martial artist was eventually able to get around the chair without touching it. At this point, he decided delicacy was the best course of action. He soon enough had the chair over the threshold and down the steps into the living space. Squall took off again the millisecond the wheels hit the floor and headed over to the office.

"Up here," was his concise instruction. Zell complied instantly, forcing himself to bite down the desire to take advantage of the dependency and make sure he got some rest. But if working was Squall's way of blowing off steam while training wasn't an option, who was he to interfere? No matter how insane it was…no matter how insane _he_ was.

A minute later Squall was at his desk, tapping his fingers impatiently on the wood as he waited for his computer to boot up.

"You can go now, seriously," he said after a few more moments of agonizing silence. "I'm good."

"Good? Ha!" He regretted the outburst even as it was coming out of his mouth. But the word "good" definitely could not be applied to Squall's current state. If he were any adjective, it would be _bad_. Very, very bad. "Dude, I'm not going anywhere. Regardless of the being unable to move without me issue-"

"I'll be fine," he tried to interrupt, but Zell was relentless.

"_Regardless_, you're obviously going through something and I don't think you should be left alone."

"I cut my hair, not my wrists. Stop making a bigger deal of it than it is." The computer finally prompted for his login, which he hastily typed in. "I'm sure over the course of the day anyone and everyone are going to want to check on me. I'll get them to help as needed. But for the next five hours at least, I do not foresee any reason to move from this exact spot."

"What about food?" Zell prompted.

"I'm full off the IV."

"What if you need to go to the bathroom?"

"I'll hold it."

"What if there's a fire?"

"I'll somehow suppress any urges to commit arson. Considering each individual unit has fireproof doors, I'm safe unless someone decides to throw a Molotov cocktail in here and run away. And if an elite SeeD with access to this wing has that much of a grudge against me well, I'm dead no matter what. Why fight it? I'm fine. Go away."

"Squall…come on man. You can talk to me ya know? I'm not Selphie. I won't put it on the net tomorrow morning. Unlike Quistis, I won't leave you hanging in perpetual hell if you say something that doesn't fit my personal beliefs. I won't say 'that's what she said' after every use of the word 'hard' or 'stiff' or 'large' or 'spoon' or-"

"I get it. Irvine has beat that horse to death, I agree." His computer had finally finished loading and he immediately opened the library's electronic encyclopedia search. But before typing in the request, Squall hesitated. As desperate as he was for information, for proof, he didn't dare let Zell have any small tidbit of evidence. Instead he opened his electronic agenda and tried to figure out how far Quisitis had gone with his work load of basic contracts.

"The point being," Zell continued, unfazed by his audience's apparent apathy. "I'd like to think that, sometimes, we're friends as well as colleagues. Right?"

"…Sometimes." Squall admitted begrudgingly, silently thinking that now was not one of those moments.

"So, tell me then! Let it out! What spurred…this," he gestured helplessly to the top of his head, his face automatically morphing into a cringe. "Was it Rinoa? I saw her going up in the elevator toward your office. Did she say something? Was it mean? Did she-"

"Oh for the love of…" Squall whipped his chair around to be face to face with his interrogator, his blue eyes now flashing with that special type of annoyed anger that Zell was very used to by now. "Why does everyone think my life revolves around Rinoa? Was there some memo I didn't get? Are she and I to be considered one entity from now on?"

"Well…you do spend a lot of time together," Zell began, actually considering for the first time how it was a slightly odd conclusion to jump to. Unlike Selphie, Zell was almost ninety-nine percent sure that nothing was going on or had ever been going on between he and Rinoa. Romantically at least. After all, Squall was the grumpiest hard-ass he had ever met and, from a male perspective, Zell could easily blame it on something much more basic than the stress of his job. He didn't know how many times he and Irvine had left a meeting after being torn a new one by the Commander and whispered to each other the same joking conclusion; Leonhart needed to unwind with a one-night woman. Desperately.

"She works for me and, in return, I protect her. That requires time. But in no way implies that she has any influence over my decision making!"

"I wasn't suggesting tha-"

"'_She'll change you'_ they tell me. _'She'll take over your mind'_ says the World Council. Well she hasn't and she won't. I cut my hair because I couldn't get the crap out of it. That's all it was and all it will ever be."

"Squall…calm down man. I wasn't trying to-"

"I am so damn sick of defending her. Of defending us…" exhausted from both the long night and the passion of this subject, Squall fell back into his chair, leaning his head on the support and closing his eyes. "What will it take to prove…how can I prove…? Damn it…"

"Shh…" Zell coaxed, hesitantly reaching his hand forward to grasp his friend's shoulder. Squall winced but otherwise made no effort to swat him away or, worse, punch him out for invading his personal space. "I get it man. I really do. And it sucks, I know."

Squall let out a sadistic laugh while shaking his head. "You really have _no_ idea," he said bitterly. After all, only he, Quistis and Cid knew the details of the Angelica Policy. All other SeeDs only knew of the implied precautions, but otherwise considered Rinoa a normal resident. It was exhausting keeping up that pretext…not that he needed to anymore. Not really.

"True. I have no idea what weird exact limits the Council has forced you into. And I'm perfectly happy not knowing," Zell admitted nonchalantly. "I guess that this particular situation is rather unique. But you're not making it any better by fighting with Quistis all the time and not talking to anyone else _ever._ Can you blame the Garden admins for being shifty?"

Squall's eyes gradually opened to stare dubiously at his friend, shocked that he actually had an opinion on matters not related to hot dogs stock. "I am a Garden admin. They should trust me."

"They should, yes. And they would…if they were retarded."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Squall asked, his angry tone having returned. In one brisk movement he rolled out of Zell's reach, letting his comforting hand on shoulder gesture to fall uselessly by his side.

Zell sighed. He hated to be Mr. States-the-Obvious, but Squall's situation would only get more miserable if he didn't adopt a new attitude concerning his dealings with Rinoa. "We have no idea what leads to Ultimecia's future. We don't know when Ultimecia's future is exactly! All we know is that for some reason, at some point, a sorceress loses it. And how many sorceresses do we know, huh?"

"You think I haven't thought of that? Think we haven't discussed it to death at Consul meetings?"

"I know, I know. My point is; no more secrets. Okay? Not from her, not from Garden, not from us. They'll leave you alone as long as they know exactly what is on your mind. Just…try to get into the habit of talking about things more, okay? As bitchy as what Quisits did was, you can't blame her for suspecting something. This trip to Centra was random and sketchy from the start."

"I needed to research Odin. For catalogue purposes. We did that quickly. We had a week left still so we moved on to the orphanage," Squall explained simply while turning back towards his computer, bored with the conversation yet reluctantly agreeing with what was being said. Telling someone, anyone, straight to their face that he no ill intentions for the outing may somewhat clear his name. The less he mentioned his lack of plans, the more secret plans they would assume he had. It was obtuse logic, paranoid logic, but it was the type of thinking Garden was founded on. "And I've always trained with Rinoa. I don't know why that's considered so scandalous."

"You know she's supposed to rely on her powers so that we can keep tabs. _Everyone_ knows it. Why let her use your gunblade?"

Squall shrugged. "Honestly?...I thought it would be funny."

"Funny?" Zell repeatedly skeptically. He eyed the thigh cast before bringing his gaze back up to Squall's head, now topped with a messily cropped style: two horrifying consequences of letting Rinoa play with fire. "Let's just say you're damn lucky you're a good looking guy. Not everyone could pull off the butchered look you're currently donning."

"Get over my hair."

"I can't! It was your thing. It was part of your identity. You were the guy with the naturally sweepy hair as I am the guy with the face tattoo and the ridiculously elaborate hair. Now you're just…a general military guy."

"My hair wasn't my thing. It was a result of being too busy to ever get it cut. It was one of the lowest items on my long list of priorities, right below boot polishing yet above vacuuming."

"I noticed it was little dusty in here. Well, for someone as anally clean as you at least."

"Anyway," Squall continued, closing his agenda and opening up one of the latest contracts to arrive in his email. Something about Esthar needing more SeeDs for the continuing Lunar Cry cleanup. "After spending ten minutes trying to open a jar a jam while on our trip, Rinoa began complaining about her lack of upper body strength. We do more endurance than muscular. She figured that if she had to spend ten hours a week training, she may as well get the added, lone bonus of being able to open jars."

Zell nodded, giggling a little. "Sounds like Rinoa."

"I knew she'd hate it and that it was unnecessary. Rinoa is a caster and will always be one. It makes more logical sense to focus on those abilities and let the physical offensive SeeDs concentrate on strength training."

"True, true. Not to mention you're not supposed to let her do anything else."

"So," Squall choose to ignore the last statement. "I suggested doing some basic gunblade exercises, to see how she felt about switching to weapons offense. We had nothing better to do after combing Odin's Tower and I knew, after ten minutes, she'd give up and leave it alone." Squall sighed at the memory, shaking his head in regret. What had he been thinking? "She shot me two minutes in, while I was still teaching her how to hold it."

"Ha Ha! That **is** pretty funny…" Zell asserted through his laughter. The Commander took a moment out of his email reading to shoot a glare in the blonde's direction. "Well, not the same type of funny I knew you were aiming for, but a funny story all the same."

"Maybe it will be next week. But while I'm in this chair, I'm still failing to find the hilarity."

"Sorry man," Zell made the motion of zipping his lips and yet still, at random intervals, giggles would escape. "Sorry. It's awful I know. But it's _Rinoa_. Rinoa Heartilly. You don't put deadly weapons in the hands of those type of girls."

"You mean sorceresses?"

"I mean klutzes…and she's a grade A walking disaster sometimes."

"I knew. I mean, I know." Squall rolled his chair backwards slightly, his email reading forgotten as his mind strained to focus. "I forget sometimes, after the equivalent of 400 conference hours just discussing her power and what she could potentially do to the world…I forget that…" he reviewed the week they had spent together in Centra. Yes, upon encountering a few hostiles, her natural magic was ferocious but no more deadly that he was with his gunblade. Casting still took time and energy which she, like all other human, had a limited supply of. Other than that, there really was nothing _really_ "special" about Rinoa Heartilly. Well, nothing applying-to-battle special. And as long as his reports assumed that she could still be easily brought down in a fight, should it come to that, there was really nothing to worry about.

"She's only a girl," he concluded at last.

She still burnt the food, she still tripped over rocks, she still couldn't open a measly jam jar. And this was the girl that kept military officials awake at night, quaking in their boots. If only they could see her like he saw her. Maybe then they'd feel what he felt: an intense desire to protect something so innocent.

"Oh she's a girl alright," Zell added with a somewhat salacious tone, his lips forming a crooked grin "and you only realized this now? What, did you finally get a peek while out camping?"

Squall's eyes narrowed, a silent yet deadly warning to choose a new topic.

"I'm just saying," the martial artists raised his shoulders with apparent obliviousness to the connotations. "And if you want to get technical, she's actually a woman. A smart, funny, beautiful woman, need I remind you," he finished his sentence with wink and a nudge; one of many non-subtle implications over the past year from all of his male colleagues that he should take advantage of a catch so ready and willing.

Squall rolled his eyes. He was so sick of everyone trying to force them together, deeming it to be so easy, so natural, so expected. But it was infinitely more complicated than any of them could ever imagine. To them, Rinoa was just another Garden resident. But to everyone else in the world, the world where he played a rather significant role in, she was the daughter of the devil. "Why don't _you_ ask her out then, huh? Maybe Selphie will leave me alone when Rinoa's with someone else."

"Ha! Even if I was single, like Rinoa would be happy with anyone other than yo…" a glance from Squall warned him to cut off. It was one thing that everybody knew how desperately in love Rinoa was with him, it was quite another remind him of it, to confirm it. Zell cleared his throat awkwardly, hoping to disguise the moment. "I'm not her type," he rephrased quickly.

Squall scoffed at that. "She dated Seifer. Anyone cocky and aggressive is her type. Which fits you to a T." The conversation was leading somewhere he really didn't want to go. He instead tried to change the subject to work, quickly scanning the entirety of his inbox. "Looks like someone is gonna have to lead a team to Trabia. They need help digging the foundation for the new gym."

"First of all, like hell I'm doing that. Trabia is the place warmth goes to die. And secondly, she was sixteen when she dated Seifer! We can't all be forever accountable for the idiocies of our sixteen-year-old selves. At sixteen I had a Mohawk!"

"You are the only A rank martial artist and you're experienced in craft and construction work. It would make sense that I send someone who doesn't have to tote weapons and inevitably have some skin-to-metal sticking issues. And someone who is good with their hands."

"I repeat: hell no. Ask Selphie. She'd be happy to visit her old home. And Rinoa needs a guy who can handle her present self. Someone strong. Someone who can forget the sorceress issue and just treat her for who she is…as a person. Not as some obstacle to their career."

"Selphie would work as well I guess," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Course the decision depends on who bothers me the least. Right now, she's winning."

"Yeah, yeah. If I piss you off you have the power to ship me off to the boonies. I'm so very scared. But still, we can't keep Rinoa cooped up in here anymore. The more the public sees her, the more used to her they'll be!"

"Or one of the thousands of extremists picketing for her death will run her down." Squall couldn't help but join in the sub conversation, despite all attempts to avoid it. Though he knew the current situation could not last after what Rinoa had overheard today, risking her life pointlessly would be far from solving the issue. "And I don't see her as just an obstacle in my career," he decided to clarify.

He knew, if he asked and if he honestly wanted it, Rinoa would not hesitate to being frozen. Not if it meant he, Garden and the world could stop walking on eggshells. But that wasn't an option. It would never be an option.

"Keep her under guard then," Zell tried, at least wanting to get the cogs turning in his Commander's head for some type of happy medium to satiate Rinoa. "And by SeeDs _other_ than you. Let her go out every once in a while."

"I'm not entrusting her life to the incompetents around here."

"What? You don't think I, Selphie, Irvine, or _Quistis_, headmistress Quistis, are skilled enough to guard one girl who, needless to say, is already more than capable of taking care of herself? We're A-rank too ya know."

"It's my job to protect her, not you."

"It's our mutual job to not drive her insane…which is what your anal possessiveness of her is leading to."

"I'm not…possessive," out of all the words to describe how he treated Rinoa, that one was one of the oddest. And yet it had been used twice in one day. "Just because I don't trust anyone else doesn't mean I'm _possessive._ I haven't forced her into anything. She's here because she chooses to be."

"Ha! You know damn well that she doesn't have the heart to say no to _anything _you ask for."

"Don't talk about thing you know nothing about," he advised angrily. "I've never pushed her into anything. It's also not my fault she refuses to date. Not that I blame her with the slim pickings Garden has to offer. And I didn't force her to become my assistant."

"Fine. Whatever. I just find it kinda unfair that her life revolves around you, per your _suggestion_," he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers to emphasize the word "and yet you won't give her the time of day. I can see how that could make a girl crazy. That's it. You know what I'm saying?"

"Are you suggesting that I pursue a relationship with Rinoa just to keep her _calm_?" Squall deduced, his eyes actually wide with shock. "How is that fair?"

"I'm suggesting the opposite dude. You can't have your cake and eat it too. Either be with Rinoa, and I mean _be_ with her, because you want to, or don't. Give some slack to the leash you have her on or fuse yourselves together. What you got going on now?...it not only abnormal, its unhealthy. For both of you."

Squall sighed and rubbed furiously at the skin between his brows. To Zell it was all so easy, all so simple, black and white. The airhead was right about one thing: that he and Rinoa could not go on as they were. There needed to be a change…but none of the suggested alternatives were on the list of viable options. In fact, the list was pretty much an empty set so far.

"I don't…She's not…" he let out a long, loud breath of frustration. "You don't understand."

"You're right about that," Zell began, while crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm working with less than ten percent of the relevant information I'm sure. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't think about it. _As soon as possible_. Rinoa is waiting with baited breath, of **that** I am one hundred percent positive." He repeated his early gesture of reaching out a hand to place on his friend's shoulder, squeezing gently for reassurance.

The Commander's mouth open for a scolding and then closed for a moment of reflection. It opened again for an insult, and then closed for an explanation. It opened once more for defense, and then closed as realization hit.

When he looked back up, Zell was smiling. It took all his will power not to smack him.

"I was gonna head to the caf to get some food." Zell mentioned casually, standing up from his crouching position and winding his arms to get the kinks out. "Now that you're less hobo-looking, anywhere you want me to take you before locking yourself up in here? Last chance."

Squall's eyes flicked back to the computer screen, re-opening the encyclopedia page while his hands floated above the keyboard. Waiting. There were so many things he had to do, the infinite list of priorities mentioned earlier. And yet, one specific chore was slowly rising in the ranks, overruling his contract reviews, then his research and, finally, his need of coffee. Talking to Rinoa was now number one. He'd have to do it now before he lost his nerve.

Though he had done nothing but complain so far, Squall was suddenly ecstatic with his choice companion. Of all the group members, Zell was at least the best balanced in discretion (usually), respect (most of the time) and willingness to help, believing in human spirit over Garden policy (especially in all things hover-board related). Yes. He was lucky that Zell had been willing to leave Balamb to help out. Lucky that he had stuck around to help get him out of the apartment.

He was lucky to have such an intense, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, incredibly annoying guy as a friend.

"Can you take me to the student dorm wing…please?" he asked in as a polite manner as possible. Zell's grin, if possible, widened.

"You know what?" he said after a couple of beats of staring. He took a step back into the living space, holding his hands out as two connecting Ls to frame the view of his friend. "It suits you."

"What?"

"The short hair. It looks good. Now that shock has worn off, I can now take in the whole picture. And my conclusion? Hot. Very, very hot."

"…Thanks?" There were so many things wrong with Zell using the word 'hot' as applicable to him. But having just made a resolution to better appreciate his friends, Squall tried to let it slide.

"Totally. And with the right hair gel you could-"

"No," Squall instantly interrupted. "I did this to make things easier, not to _add_ to my regime." Who knew how long it took for Zell to get ready with that complex chicken-style. He must have skipped those lectures on the importance of SeeD efficiency and time management.

"Come on man! Trust me. There's only so fine a line between 'sexy messy' and 'un-kept grunge'."

"I'll live."

"But-"

"If you drop this now, I promise to insist the cafeteria always order an extra stock of hot dogs."

"Whoa. Deal!"

They shook hands on it and, a few moments later, were over the threshold and into the corridor. Each man heading towards their respective destinies; one of admission and the other of processed meat.

* * *

Rinoa had officially given up.

Over an hour now she had been looking, combing every inch of her dorm only to come up with nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Today was meant to be a fresh start. The beginning of her new life as an official hermit. But that didn't mean she wanted the world to be watching her gradual degradation. Let the Garden administrator _reporters_ say all they needed to on her activities or lack thereof. But like hell she'd let them see. The line had to be drawn somewhere.

Maybe Quistis had been lying, trying to scare her into acting stiffer, more proper even in the privacy of her own room. For there was not one shred of evidence that the Council was watching. Not one hint to the existence of a camera.

"Bullshit…" the sorceress whispered to herself after going through each of her pencils individually, searching for something, anything, out of place. All were normal. Plain wood and led.

She began laughing. She couldn't help it. Something was just irrefutably hilarious about her life at that moment, analyzing pencils as potential spy equipment. It was funny. It really was.

With her hand clenched to her stomach, cramped from giggling too much, she fell back onto her bed and let it all out.

Squall…oh man. A couple of hours ago she had been convinced that she was irrevocably in love with him. Ha! Now she wanted nothing more in the world than to never see him again. That or ten minutes alone with some metal knuckles and he tied up and blindfolded.

And her job? She had thought she was actually making a difference in the world. Ridiculous! He had never given her any _real_ contracts had he? She organized parades and construction and daycares. Pointless drivel. He probably had a real assistant on the side helping him with the actual work. The Council's work.

As a sorceress? It had become an implied side note over the months. She was too busy to actually ever want to leave Garden anyway. It was hardly ever mentioned. In the few conversations regarding their relationship, it had always been implied that his reluctance was just fear. Fear of intimacy, not her title. Who knew that the little fact of her power dictated her entire existence? What an unexpected twist!

The laughter eventually died down into sporadic chuckles. If there was indeed someone watching right now, they were probably having a heart attack trying to figure out what was wrong with her. Wondering if she had indeed finally lost her mind.

"I'm fine," she called out to the empty room, just in case. "I'm fine…"

She was fine.

At least, she would be. She had to be.

Rinoa's laughter was unexpectedly cut off by a knock on the door. She sighed in carefree annoyance before whipping the sheets off her legs and standing up. Probably Selphie, having heard about the incident, wanting to make sure she was okay/wanting to know what her internal reactions were to add to her online gossip column. Or worse, Quistis wanting to confirm that she wouldn't do anything rash in response to this revelation. Maybe it would be Edea and Cid trying to convince her that a life of being spied on and restricted by Garden was better than the alternative life of being loathed and feared but "free".

Whoever it was, she was most definitely not in the mood to talk about it in any way shape or form. She already had the exact words prepared in her head to blow the guest off. A tired yet confident smile for the women, reassuring them that she was calm and merely exhausted. Something about period cramps to any males that dared to venture these female-only halls. That always sent them running. A promise to discuss things in the morning to any administrators who were not fazed by any of her excuses.

The last person she expected, the only one that she had no speech prepared for when the door opened, was him.

Widened in shock brown eyes met the intensely vivid blue ones. Rinoa felt her heart leap into her throat, cutting off the potential for any sound beyond a pained whimper, let alone actual words.

Everything, her entire situation, was suddenly not so funny anymore.

"I want to tell you…" he said after a moment of eternity. "I need to tell you. Everything."

This was more of a command than a choice really. For before Rinoa had found her voice again, he had already rolled past her into the cramped quarters.

Her day of terror was, apparently, still far from over.

And what the hell happened to his hair?

* * *

**Author's Note:** Woohoo! This is my first chapter actually written and then posted within two weeks. Hopefully my styles haven't jumped too much since the whole beginning of this story was written more than three years ago. I now have no more excuses, back to "Fumbling Towards Ecstacy" for a while to finish that up. I do have another chapter of this I wrote over the reading week break here on my hard drive. Squall and Rinoa face off! Reviews inspire ealier postage ;) -- totally attempting to bribe here. *glowers at those many favoriters/alerters that don't review*

Bah...thanks for reading!


	10. Natural

"_The supernatural is the natural not yet understood." _

**-- Elbert Hubbard**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 10: …_Natural_ …

Rinoa slowly, cautiously closed the door behind her intruding ex boss, the shock of his presence still somehow rendering her speechless. Not to mention his new hair cut.

Had it been any other day before this she would have loved poke fun, make some snarky comment, or have a tumultuous longing to run her hands through the newly shortened locks. Just to see what it would feel like. But no. Not today. She had not one inkling of desire to do that today. Not at all.

No matter how soft it now looked.

_Dammit. _

"What are you doing here Squall?" she said finally, the swish of longing reminding her of her rage. Somehow, upon seeing him on her doorstep, the originally murderous sentiment had automatically downgraded to plain bitterness. But that didn't mean she was past maiming him if he dared try to defend his heartless actions.

"I already said," he stated brusquely, rolling his chair to the far right corner of her dorm room. "I need to tell you. To explain." He reached up for her thermostat, awkwardly trying to twist off the cover from his seated position.

The Rinoa of yesterday would have gone over to help him. She wouldn't have wanted him to risk ripping his stitches. But this Rinoa sought to stand her ground. She wanted to, for once, deny him of her full, anxious attention and prove that he had no influence over her actions.

He continued to pull himself further out of the chair, sweat gathering on his brow as he reached past his capacity for the frame. Even with the numbing sensation of whatever those pills Kadowaki had given him, the stretching of his skin was causing agonizing tremors to travel up his leg. But he wouldn't ask for help. He couldn't. She probably wouldn't any-

"Here," he felt the breath of her annoyed sigh on his shoulder as she reached over him to unscrew the thermostat frame.

"Thanks," he let out in a breathless whisper, gratefully falling back into the chair.

"Don't read too much into it," she warned. "I just don't want you bleeding all over my carpe-….huh." the plastic cover eventually fell off into her hands, revealing below it the black, glossy surface of a camera lens.

Good job World Council spies, she praised internally. It was quite literally the only place she hadn't considered to look.

"Pull it out and remove the white and yellow wire connection port," Squall instructed from below her. "I don't want them seeing this."

"What about hearing this?" Rinoa asked while complying with his instructions. In a few calculated movements the lens was disconnected and left hanging uselessly by its remaining wire against the wall.

"There's no audio surveillance in here. Only in the office."

"You don't say?" things were becoming pathetically hilarious once again. It was no longer odd that there was a camera in her bedroom. It was odd that there wasn't also a mic. Or maybe an actual person on the other side of the wall, surrounded by screens showing every angle, ready to jump out and tranquilize her should there be a need. "Guess me talking to myself isn't as interesting as me talking to you, huh? What, did you have an interrogation to perform each week? Are my responses to questions like 'how you feeling today?' being evaluated by a committee somewhere?"

"You'd like to consider yourself the martyr here Rinoa. Well go ahead. But I'm under the exact same restrictions, the same surveillance."

"By your own choice," she reminded him. The deed having been done, Rinoa took a wide step backwards to enlarge the distance between then, remaining standing if only to have a minute advantage. "I didn't have that luxury."

"Rinoa…" he let her name hang there in the air, seemingly out of words yet again. Already. But it wouldn't work this time. It would take more than a saddened undertone to get her to let everything go.

"I don't know why you even bothered," she said honestly, her voice thankfully solid. "I know you're sorry and you don't like it but that doesn't change the situation. It doesn't change the fact that you've been lying to me. Nor the consequence of me no longer wanting to be around you."

"You only heard a portion of my reason," he explained while daring to roll closer, the wheels of his chair practically on her feet. "And that version was severely skewed, edited for the Council's peace of mind."

"Are you trying to say that my entire life isn't a sham, a distraction? That you honestly wanted me, a spoiled rebellious princess from Deling, as your assistant? Thinking I could actually help?"

Squall took a deep breath while looking up at her, not even daring to blink in case she misinterpreted his attempts at honesty as condescension. "I'm sure even you knew there were alternate reasons for that job. Don't act so shocked."

Rinoa's reply caught in her throat as she took a moment to actually consider.

Less than a year ago. The ball that was her first public appearance since Time Compression. He had asked, practically begged her to be his assistant that night on the secret area's balcony. Regardless of the uproar it was sure to create with the politicians.

His reasons? Outwardly it was because he was desperate for ideas and hers, apparently, were first-rate, catering to everyone. The Council had even indeed applied her recommendations, in spite of the source. The SeeD Gardens were now the World Army, all states applied the principles of democracy, and small towns had an equal voice to the large cities.

But the real reason for the promotion? True, she had always known it wasn't only due to some mumbled suggestions on a dark, drunken night. Wishful thinking had always led her to believe it was because he wanted her close. Not just to protect, but for her enjoyable company.

"It wasn't just to keep you busy…" Squall insisted, his eyes gleaming with some unidentifiable emotion. "And it wasn't just for your ideas. Nor to keep you in my sight to protect you."

The three excuses she had conjured and he denied them all. It only begged the question: "what was it for then?"

Squall's steady gaze finally broke away from hers. He rolled toward the dangling camera lens, confirming its disconnection. Then she was forced against the wall as he headed to the door, opening it a crack before slamming it back and latching the security chain.

Despite his obvious attempts at privacy, she honestly doubted he would have a satisfactory answer. Maybe he'd just shrug and hope she'd let it go, as was often the case when she dared to delve too deep into his personal space.

"Can-can you sit down?" he asked tentatively, nodding towards the cot she stood beside.

"Why?"

"I want to try something."

With narrowed, dubious eyes, Rinoa carefully shuffled toward the bedside, slowly lowering herself onto the mattress. Her gaze never left his.

"This better be good…" she mumbled under her breath as he rolled closer, stopping only when the edges of the chair hit her knees. As close as possible.

"Hold out your hands," he commanded. "Don't move them. Just lay them out, palms up."

She did as instructed, her expression becoming more and more confused with every passing second. She couldn't believe she was doing this: bending to his will only minutes after so solidly vowing to never speak to him again. She didn't even want to consider why her resolve was so weak. He was still far from forgiven.

"You're not gonna try some new-age hypnosis crap on me, are you?" she asked wearily after a couple of seconds in the silly hands-up pose. "Cause I'm warning you now, if chanting is involved I'm throwing you out of here in about as short an amount of time as that new hairdo of yours."

It was one of the lamest segways imaginable. But for unknown reasons she needed make some sort of reference to the hair. The question of 'why the hell would you do that?' followed by the comment of 'I didn't think it possible, but you look even more amazing', was begging to slip off her tongue. Thankfully, fury made it easy to restrain herself.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you brought that up," he smirked knowingly, despite the attempted seriousness of the situation. "And as I recall, you're the only one who is known to attempt hypnosis. Usually on unwilling dance partners."

"You are not allowed to joke with me Leonhart." She was suddenly stern, desperate not to slip into their same old comfortable yet abusive routine. Things were different now. Things had changed. Even if she had to force herself against all natural instincts to coddle him, Squall had to learn that they couldn't go back to the way they were. It was too late. "I still don't know exactly what you're trying to do here, but do note that nothing, _nothing_¸ will excuse what you've said to the Council. Skewed or not."

"I know. I just…I just need…" he trailed off again, as usual, at a loss for words. This only served to fuel Rinoa's already simmering anger.

"You what? You need what?" to be fair she gave him a moment to fill in the blank. Yet, of course, his answer was just another shrug. That gesture symbolized the crossing of a line. "Hyne! You gotta be kidding me. After all that you've put me through? That's it? You have to be the most…infuriating, selfish, lazy, son-of-a-"

_'Rinoa…'_ he interjected over her expletive, his voice sounding much softer than usual. A soothing, echoing whisper.

"Why did you even bother coming here!? Were you just thinking 'Rinoa's not miserable enough. Let's go over there and make it worse, shall we?' I mean come. On!"

_'Rinoa…can you hear me?'_

"Course I can hear you! You won't leave me alone! You-" she noticed then, and couldn't help but twitch in shock as comprehension hit.

Squall's lips weren't moving.

_'Don't move,'_ he instructed yet again, his voice echoing within her skull. His expression remained placid, concentrated. Which was rather odd considering she was freaking out.

He wasn't physically talking. He was inside her head. Though she had already experienced an internal conversation with him only a few hours ago when leaving the orphanage, it had always been an endeavor on her part. She had always needed to search out and open a connection. It always took time and effort and concentration and was usually one sided. This…he…this had never happened before.

She couldn't believe it. After all this time…_Squall was telepathic too._

That or he was one hell of a ventriloquist.

"How are you doing this?" she asked in a breathless whisper, terrified for some unknown reason. Her splayed fingers couldn't help but start shaking.

Squall said nothing, neither in her head nor through his lips. Slowly, carefully, his own hands rose to hover above hers, mere millimeters away. The shaking was by then uncontrollable and her restless fingers kept twitching up, colliding with his significantly larger palms.

"Try not to move," he said aloud this time. "Try not to touch me."

"I-I'm trying." Yet still, she couldn't figure out why, but her hands kept wandering upwards.

_'Relax,'_ he mentally prompted, actually encouraging the opposite effect.

_'How are you doing this?'_ she thought, hoping that he may take her question seriously if asked in a different manner. She also wanted to test if, as she could hear him, could he hear her in exchange?

Oh Hyne, had he been able to hear her all along?

The grin on his lips was proof enough.

Rinoa's eyes narrowed maliciously. "You. Ass."

"It only works when we're close, getting stronger the nearer we get," he explained hastily. "And it only started a few weeks ago, after _you_ tried to listen in on my thoughts in the office that day."

"So it's my fault eh? You reap what you sow? Do note I told you all the day I noticed I could do it. What's your excuse?"

Squall sighed while letting his hands fall directly into her grasp. As usual she felt the electric shock of his touch course through her veins. What she had always attributed as a reaction to desire now, perhaps, had a completely different explanation.

'_I haven't been eaves dropping. I can control it.'_ He assured her through their connection, his voice now clear and loud. '_And it works both ways. It's why I avoid touching you.' _

"And it's only you," he finished aloud, icy blue eyes boring into hers. "You can read anyone, I can only read you. I needed to figure out why. Before I could tell anyone."

"Right. So you're saying the Council doesn't know about this?"

Squall chuckled, a tad maliciously for her taste, while letting go of her hands and leaning back in his chair. The moment his skin left hers she felt a warmth drain out of her. "Can you imagine what they'd do to us if they knew? While looking for an excuse to keep you in Garden and near me, I accidentally spurred Odine's curiosity on the Sorceress-Knight relation. He would like nothing more than an excuse to keep us both in glass cages."

"So you're not just protecting me. You're protecting yourself?" she clarified with a grimace. How could he have possibly imagined that this revelation would make their situation any better? Even the slightly heroic implication that all this secrecy and subversion was for her safety, was now tainted.

"It's…complicated," he chose as his answer, rather ineptly.

Rinoa rolled her eyes. That was his second most common, frustrating excuse. Right under the irritating shrug.

Well not today. Today there would be no more secrets.

"You spoke earlier, in the Policy, of a theory of Odine's? Of research?" latching her foot to the undercarriage of his chair, preventing him from rolling away, she dug both her hands onto his forearms. Grasping as hard as she could. Squall's eyes widened in surprise.

'_Tell me,'_ she insisted with her mind. _'Tell me everything.'_

The next instant she felt a white, hot surge through her brain, enticing a loud wince and all concentration to disperse.

"It doesn't work like that Rinoa," he warned her angrily, not making any effort to struggle away. "It's voluntary on both our parts, unless caught by surprise. And I don't appreciate you trying to force your way into my head."

"Dammit Squall," she violently threw his arms away, moving to furiously massage at her temples. The pain was fading but it had still left her with the tingling remnants of a migraine and over exposed eyesight that was struggling to focus. "I _deserve _to know! And you not telling me about experiments concerning **us** is as unfair as me trying to force it out of you. And holy crap that hurt!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It's a knee-jerk reaction of self-defense. Don't try and it won't happen again."

"Fine. But it's not fair. I should know. I need to know."

"I'll tell you if you just give me a minute…" he took a deep breath and stared at her, brows furrowing as her desperately tried organize his thoughts. There was so much to tell, so much to show. And yet the order was imperative to being interpreted and proved correctly.

"Hold out your hands," he instructed again after a minute of silence. Rinoa scoffed.

"Why are we doing this again? Yes, it's weird. Yes, it's creepy. Let's move on, shall we?"

"Just do it okay?"

"Ug….fine."

"And again, try not to touch me."

Once again her hands were out, palms up, as Squall hovered his above. Exactly the same as before. Still her fingers would jump up to meet his no matter hard she concentrated on keeping them still.

'_This is stupid,'_ she thought purposefully after a couple of beats of fruitless trying. _'What is this supposed to prove except that I should never be a surgeon?'_

'_Shut up and concentrate.'_

'_Hmph. By the way, I hate your hair.'_

'_No you don't. You wanted to run your hands through it earlier. I heard. Maybe I'll let you if you can be quiet for a whole 30 seconds. Fat chance though.'_

Rinoa gulped, all her potential witty replies lost in the embarrassment of him having heard her private thoughts. She wondered what else he had gleaned over the past several weeks? Her head, especially around him, was usually not exactly the most immaculate of places to be.

'_I told you, I don't listen when I don't have to. Don't worry.'_

'_Stop listening now then!'_

"Fine."

"I was just thinking it looked softer," she explained hurriedly. "That doesn't mean I like it."

"That's your prerogative. It wasn't exactly an aesthetic decision. It was either cut it off or let Zell help me in the shower. That made it a relatively easy choice to make."

Rinoa sniggered. She couldn't help it. There was an ensuing struggle to try to reanimate her straight, irritated expression, but it was taking all of her mental abilities to avoid thinking of what may very well have happened in Squall's bathroom if he were more attached to his hair.

'_Purple Elephants!'_ she interrupted her potential thoughts hastily, desperately trying to think of something visual was…wrong. Very, very wrong.

'_Purple what?'_

'_I thought you weren't listening!?'_

'_You re-opened the connection with 'purple whatsit'. I can't block you out without causing pain. You know that.' _

'_Why are we doing this?'_

'_Are you angry? Frustrated?'_

'_I'm getting there…'_

'_Not good enough.'_

With an aggravated breath, Squall moved his hands to hover instead above her cheeks, his calloused fingers brushing against her skin with the gentleness of feathers. Rinoa sucked in her breath and stared at him unabashedly, trying to decipher his intentions through his eyes.

"How about now?" he was asking, his voice low and husky in her ears.

Somehow, she managed a weak nod.

Yes. She was angry. Yes, she was frustrated. And curious and saddened and amorous and nervous all at once.

"What-what are you…"

"I can feel what you're feeling," he interrupted, indeed sounding as confused and excited as she felt. "Only when it's something extreme and we're close. It's not just me. It's not just you. It's us. It's coming from us. Our emotions mix. You must have noticed by now?"

"I don't…" her heart begin to race as his fingers moved from hovering to actual contact with her skin, softly making their way across her cheeks and down her neck. The feeling was ecstasy. Or it would have been if this weren't some kind of experiment.

"Odine's theory," Squall began to explain, taking a moment to brush her hair off her shoulder. The gesture felt so natural in progress, so comforting. But afterwards they both visibly tensed, radiating a mutual anxiety. "His theory is that a sorceress is nothing without her Knight. Her power is only a minute fragment of its potential until she finds him."

"O-ooh?" she responded in an attempted indifference. Maybe she was imagining it, but he seemed to be leaning inestimably closer, his good leg gradually nudging between her knees with the movement. She had no idea what he was trying to prove, but it must be working. She felt hot all of a sudden. Blazing. A feeling she had, again, always attributed as a natural reaction to his proximity. But this time, she bothered to concentrate. Not on the exquisiteness of his simple touch, but on the effects on her body. Her gaze forced itself away from his to glance down at her tingling hands, still poised in what little space there was between them.

They were glowing.

The bright orange flames of Firaga were licking between her fingers. Just as the Thundaga bolts had this morning when furious with him.

Blazing indeed.

"What the…?" she wasn't controlling it. It wasn't going away. "Squall…I'm-"

"You know the very second you choose a Knight," he ignored her desperate remarks completely, attempting to distract her by lightly pressing his finger tips against the V of exposed collar bone that was peeking from her unbuttoned blouse. And Hyne help him, it worked. She was captivated once more, drowning in his eyes, the burning only getting more intense. "Though providence and founding sentiments do play a role, it's a like an irremovable status spell. It binds us together."

"Mmm-hmm." She was barely listening. Somehow she had inched forward as well and was ever so slightly leaning off the bed toward him, stuck as he was in the chair. She couldn't help it. It was like they were magnets.

The glow of her fire-hands increased, tugging at the edges of her vision, reflecting in his radiant eyes.

"Everything about us," he was whispering, dangerously close to her lips "has been re-designed to complement one another. I am the one meant to trigger your taste for control, for power. Sorceress-Knight duos have been running rampant in the world for centuries, leaving nothing but death and destruction in their wake. I am the fuel that makes you combust."

"Oh really?" she dared to lift a hand up on his shoulder then, coyly hoping to fulfill that silly wish of wanting to feel his new hair. A silly wish that had somehow turned into a desperate need. She hovered there, luckily having enough of her wits about her to know that touching something with enflamed fingers was a bad idea.

Squall didn't even wince, though a bead of sweat flowing down his temple proved he felt the heat of her.

"Odine thinks that it's as simple as discipline," he continued, seemingly unfazed. "I stay away from you, and everything is solved. No one gets hurt. But it doesn't work…And it didn't work."

"What do you mean?" up to his neck now. So close. She could sense his pulse rushing beneath her fingertips, proving his mirrored temptation despite the clear and logical voice.

"Adel. Remember her?"

In an instant the fire was extinguished, the sudden lack of its illumination leaving them both struggling to focus. The spell being broken, Rinoa took a moment to stare at her palms in amazement. They felt unnaturally clammy.

What the hell was that?

"Rinoa? Adel?" Squall prompted.

She nodded briskly, though her narrowed eyes never wavered from her hovering hand still near his neck, nor the numerous bead of sweat that has developed on his skin as a result of her proximity. Proof that it wasn't just her imagination.

Of course she remembered Adel. She had been fused with her. One of the most evil sorceresses of all time, the reason why the older generation was so afraid of their kind. Her reign of terror was still all too fresh in their minds.

"I've been looking into past examples, trying to figure out what went wrong. Adel had a knight that abandoned her because he disagreed with her principles. It twisted her mind even further. It broke her. And then she broke him. Literally, in half."

Rinoa winced. Though she wanted to criticize the woman's overly violent reaction, she thought back to that very morning after speaking with Quisits and Squall and discovering the Angelica Policy.

She had wanted to kill him.

Honestly, wanted to blast him to pieces for not wanting to be with her.

It was such an extreme, uncharacteristically aggressive wish. And perhaps, had they been doing this dance for years and he randomly decided to cut her loose, she may very well have followed through on the craving.

"I understand. It wouldn't work" she nodded heartily. Then, wanting no secrets, she elaborated. "What Quisitis said this morning? It made me…so angry. It was weird. For a split second, I was considering blowing up the floor." Her eyes flew to his, wide and scared. "I don't want to hurt you. I really, really don't want to hurt you or anyone, in any way. You know that? Whatever happens?"

"I know." He assured her gently, warm hands squeezing her shoulders through the material of her suit jacket. "And I won't happen. Because I wouldn't leave you. I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

"Heh…" he rolled away slightly, only a centimeter or two, trying to maintain the semblance of civil distance between them. She instantly felt chilly. "Don't tell me you don't feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"I call it _the chain_."

"The chain?"

"An invisible connection. It tugs at your brain, distracting and enticing you, until you need a fix. Until I see you again. It was driving me insane, keeping me awake and irritable. That is until I made you my assistant."

"Ah…" Rinoa let her hand fall from where it still hovered over his neck and back to her lap. Well, that explained the job at least. And yes, she did feel it. That constant and inexplicable need to be by his side, to make him happy, even when hating him. But why call it 'the chain'? She couldn't help but feel slightly insulted at the title's implication. And who said it had anything to do with the supernatural?

"This _connection_ you're referring to. What makes you so sure it's a sorceress-knight thing?"

"Rinoa, we can read each other's minds," he reminded her grimly. "And you saw. I get too close and you set yourself on fire. You could hurt people because of me. You could hurt yourself. Nothing attributed to anything about us is normal."

"But what if it is?" she couldn't help but argue. "Not the…fire thing. But the feelings? A lot happened before I made you my Knight. We actually cared for each other once upon a time. Naturally…didn't we?"

Squall sighed quietly, moving his gaze to his hand that was slowly snaking its way towards hers on her lap.

'_Of course'_ he told her mentally upon their fingers making contact, thinking of the words he could never actually say. _'I don't regret taking this job. I would protect you with or without the wearisome stress, the obsession, that the magic causes. Of that I am sure. We've been through so much together. And that's why I think we'll make it.'_

"Make it?" He was making it sound like they both had a cancer by being so reliant on one another. "Is it really that bad?"

Squall sighed again. "I've been researching this for over a year. I've read stories dating back two millennia. And all of them end basically the same way: either death by the paranoid public, dead from disagreeing with one another or running rampant, trying to take over the world until killed. All of them. No sorceress and knight ever died from natural causes in 2000 years. All…except one."

"One?" Rinoa repeated aloud, suddenly intensely curious. "Who were they? What were they?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out," he confessed bleakly. "It's too far back for any concrete texts and the area, so remote and run down, proved useless information wise."

"What area? Who are you talking about?"

"If only he'd talk to me. He's the most exasperating of them all. I can't control him! I can't even summon him. He just shows up when he wants."

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"Oh. Odin, of course."

"Odin? What…?" for the first time in a long while, Rinoa tried to remember her experiences with Guardian Forces. With her new magic, she hardly ever used them anymore, spells proving to be faster and more brutal than anything they could conjure. Especially at their rather high cost. And, unlike Squall, she had covered them only briefly in history classes. The collecting of powerful souls to do your bidding in battle was never a priority for the girls of Deling's finest preparatory school. They spent more time training on how to sip tea without slurping than they did on self defense.

But she did know that GFs had once been people. Strong people none the less, who sacrificed themselves for the chance, or need, of greater power. But still, at one point, they were all normal, everyday humans. It slightly explained why they fed off memories, needing some shred of humanity in order to return in physical form and protect their master.

"Odin…Odin was Knight," she concluded at last.

Squall smiled then. That same heartbreakingly sweet smile that always made her melt. He had been wondering when she'd figure it out. After all her harassment to try to divulge the purpose of their trip, it was suddenly vividly obvious. Well, sort of.

"Who was his sorceress? What happened to them?" Rinoa questioned, the burning curiosity nearly causing heart palpitations.

Squall dejectedly shook his head. "I don't know much honestly. But it was during the age when there were many sorceress and, if caught and convicted, they would be burned alive. It didn't matter who they were. Either evil or good or infants or often normal human beings just falsely accused of using natural magic."

"That's horrible!"

"It's not a proud moment in the World's history," he admitted. "Odin's sorceress was one such infant. A princess of Centra, and he was…someone working in the fortress, I think. They were both really young then, less than fourteen. I assume things turned badly once her powers began to develop. Spurred by chivalry, or whatever, maybe her parents, it's not clear, he stole her away and locked her in a tall tower, never daring to let her venture out to be captured and killed. It doesn't make much logical sense but she apparently hid there for years. A decade is implied, before he finally came back as a full-fledged knight, a real knight, to join and protect her."

"A tower," Rinoa repeated. "Odin's tower?"

Squall nodded. "I've found evidence of such. But that's pretty much where it concludes. All I know is that it's the only sorceress story without a grim finale. They lived in that tower, both adults by the time he returned, and…eventually he became a GF. A very proud and lucrative and _annoying _GF. But she obviously didn't kill him. They're no texts stating there was ever even a spark of war during that period. I think I've torn every library in the world apart trying to figure out how it ended."

"And in the mean time," Rinoa began with hesitation, wringing her hands together nervously. "I'm your princess? Locked in my tower here?"

Squall cringed at the implication that he could be so callous. It sounded so horrible, so controlling. But, in practice, he had to admit it was actually painfully similar.

"Our situation is a _little_ different," he insisted. "Odin, like me, also didn't relinquish his duties at the fortress, deeming it best to keep an eye on those wanting to do her harm. But I'm not hiding you. In this day and age with satellite technology it wouldn't work anyway."

"But that would have been your guardianship method of choice back in the day, huh? Locking me in a room for ten years?"

"That wouldn't have worked either," he said with a laugh.

"Why? You think I'd run away?"

"No. I trust you. It's just…" her knight licked his lips, his breathing suddenly deep and laborious. This part would be the hardest to admit. "I don't know how he did it. Staying away. Maybe it had something to do with them being so young at the time. But I couldn't do it. I'm sure everyone's noticed, including you, that I'm a bit…" he paused to search for the right word to describe his increasingly short fuse. "Testy," he decided at last. "I've been a bit testy as of late."

"You? Testy?" she repeated, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Never!"

"It's not funny Rinoa." He was in serious mode, blue eyes narrowed and strict. "It's biological. It's part of the binding spell. And it's been driving me mad."

"What is?"

She watched him strain to explain himself. Mouth opening, the closing, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling in his expressive eyes. In the end, his hand on hers in her lap tightened, and a vision of his flashed through her mind. In that instant, she was then all too aware of what he was referring to.

"O-ohh…Oh!" despite herself she began blushing furiously, her lips automatically forming a tiny grin – a mere portion of the ecstatic expression that she really wanted to liberate. "I see."

"You have no idea," he responded in an uncomfortable murmur, a bit of color appearing on his cheeks as well. "I just…I thought you should know. It's not just you. I'm just better at hiding it. It's the power, pressuring us to fuse and release it. But it won't. Don't worry. I can handle it."

"Squall, come on," Rinoa chastised with a giggle. "Again, these feelings are _completely_ normal. We're young. We're…close. It's just human nature."

Squall sneered while slowly shaking his head. "Not like this. I'm a guy. It's been bugging me my entire adolescence. But not like this."

"How can you be so sure?" she rebuked eagerly. Why did he have to assume that every emotion he was feeling towards her was the result of some type of sick black magic? Why couldn't he admit he was just a guy that was attracted to her? "It doesn't always have to be so complicated ya know?"

"Trust me Rinoa…these feelings? They're not normal. They're not healthy. Need I remind you," he gestured to her hands, now pale and innocent in her lap. Twice today they had been fueled with the power to kill, to destroy.

Swiftly, she hid the offending appendages under her thighs. Out of sight, out of mind. "I still think you're being paranoid," she grumbled angrily. "It's probably just me, my powers growing and responding to strong emotions."

"Do you honestly think that? I know _I_ can't get in to anyone else's mind. I know no one else frustrates and provokes me as much as you do with much less serious things. Quistis' denying me narcotics was nothing in comparison to you trying to dress my wound without my permission. You make me…to put it in layman's terms…" he took a moment to clear his throat, considering changing the adjective. But none other so perfectly described the sensations.

"Crazy," he admitted at last. "You make me irrefutably crazy. And not in a good way. I can't afford to not have my wits about me."

Rinoa bit her lip, trying her hardest not to make some inappropriate comment, especially since she could relate to how he felt. No one other person could make her so extremely peeved with the fewest words. And no other man could make her so intensely frustrated while never actually touching. "Still, I think-"

"Please don't," he interrupted, a new sad and desperate tone in his voice that she had never heard before. "I-I can't do this. You know it Rinoa. I know you do. If you asked, I'd do anything. Everyone assumes it's all me, pitying you for falling for my recommendations. But it works both ways. We're equals in this freak-show of a relationship. If you wanted me that badly, I'd stay. I'd never leave this room with you. But you haven't asked. You're too scared to ask."

Her jaw dropped at this, stunned beyond belief that he'd ever admit to such a thing, especially since it was most definitely far from the truth. He's the one that made it obligatory to tiptoe so lightly around the subject. "I didn't…I don't want…"

"Even if it was all in my head," he interrupted, acting almost as if in conversation with himself "though history proves it's not, are you really willing to risk our lives, our friend's lives, the world's peace terms…just to be with me?"

She couldn't help but jerk back a little at the bluntness of his suggestion. This was the exact thing the Council spies would have loved to hear. Had he really disconnected the camera lens? Was this yet another act of crafty betrayal?

Something in his eyes, glassy and anxious, confirmed that it was not. It was simply the question _he _needed answered. For peace of mind. In order to move forward in any way.

"No," she admitted after a long moment of pondering. Squall looked visibly relieved, shoulders unwinding and lips no longer pressed together. "But, I want to," she had to clarify before he was put completely at ease. "I find it ridiculous to force ourselves into such a hellish situation just because of what _might_ happen. It's just a theory. You said yourself, it's just a theory."

"And if I'm wrong, these feelings will go away. We'll both move on. If it's human nature to feel like this, if it's the nature of your powers to culminate in any intense circumstance, if my hearing your thoughts is just an after effect of you trying to invade mine so often, if being a knight is nothing more than a title, then it'll be natural for things to fade. But I don't think they will. They haven't in over a year. If anything, it got worse."

"Is that why you left?" she blurted out, her mind jealous of the fact that he had been able to get the answer he had so yearned for, and yet hers may be left hanging for all eternity. "That night, is that why you left?"

She didn't have to elaborate. Squall knew which night she was talking about. The ball after Time Compression. The infamous kiss. The infamous time he _almost_ spent the night.

The Commander sighed and ran a hand through what little was left of his hair. 'It's complicated' wouldn't fly this time, that he knew. As he struggled to come up with an answer, Rinoa developed and voiced her own opinion.

"You're frustrated. Your damn paranoia of getting close to someone having denied you what your body expected. And it got worse after Odine told you you _couldn't_ get close to me. Maybe it's typical you-want-what-you-can't-have syndrome. I wasn't exactly happy after I discovered you left." It was weird to talk about this with him. Not only because it had long since be labeled an untouchable topic, but because she had never in fact discussed so personal a subject out loud with anyone. And Squall was the last person she had ever expected to.

"It wasn't my paranoia that stopped me…" he admitted finally, his voice low but, somehow, no longer nervous. "It wasn't because I was scared, nor because it was too fast, nor even because I didn't want to risk the consequences. That night, I honestly didn't care. And I know you didn't either."

Rinoa tried to wave his comments away, to act casual like it was nothing, but then the memories began to resurface. Over a year ago and yet still so clear in her mind. Flashes of her leading him by the hand away from the party, out into the hall. A palm lightly over her hip as they walked through the corridor toward the dorms, the air between them buzzing with energy. Her stuttered suggestion that her come into her borrowed room, knowing that he wouldn't say no.

And then, with the first innocent step of trying to remove his gloves…then there was nothing. A rather abrupt pushing away, a mumbled excuse of having had too much champagne and needing to rest after the ordeal. But a promise of tomorrow, with full consciousness, of something spectacular. Then sleeping in his arms: warm and safe. And then the morning: cold and alone. Followed by every other morning in the exact same state.

"It was Edea," he explained at last, sighing as he remembered the joy-killing interlude. "Edea stopped me."

"Edea?" Rinoa repeated incredulously. "She…your _Matron? _Seriously? She's the reason you didn't stay?"

Wow. She must have spent hours considering all the millions of potential motives for his rather callous actions that night and the two months afterwards. It had never occurred to her it could have been a request by someone. Especially at that point, so soon after Time Compression, before the Council had even been fathomed.

She tried to consider how such a conversation would go: a woman who had once tried to kill you and was then discovered to be your mother of sorts from before you were five and had no memories of, scolding you on your first night of freedom to not relinquish your virtue.

It would have been as awkward discussion indeed, she imagined.

Who knew it would actually work?

"She could tell." Squall continued, his eyes slowly shifting to the right, officially embarrassed. "I don't know how, but she could tell what we were going to do that night. And she wanted to warn me."

"Warn you of what?" It wasn't like she was some diseased harlot.

"Snippets of what we know so far. That sorceresses and knights are connected in some way. That intense, unbridled emotions could lead to disastrous spells. We've proved it today. You almost blew up the third floor," he reminded her again, just in case it slipped her mind.

Her mouth dropped open in awed shock. What a stupid excuse. "So what? That was anger. Sex doesn't produce anger. Not…usually. Who was she to get involved? What was she thinking?" For whatever reason, (well, for this **exact** reason) Rinoa wanted to now do nothing more than run upstairs and confront the woman. It was easy to blame her as the direct root that led to her year of nothingness. Who knew where they could have been by now if she hadn't planted the damn seed of fear in his mind that night?

Squall waved her comments away, cringing. "Matron wasn't exactly telling me not to, just letting me know what I was getting into. She took such things into careful consideration after she received her own powers. It's why she and Cid separated almost immediately afterwards. She didn't want him to be her knight. She loved him too much to put him through that."

"So…your conclusion, yet again, is that the best case scenario is us separating? Locking me in a tower?"

He furiously began shaking his head, fervent in his response. "No. No. Never. Look what happened to Edea? She still turned, her mind weakened by her lack of a knight, making it easy for Ultimecia to take over and force her into choosing one. Anyone. It was worse than Edea could have imagined, ending up with basically one of her children. The only good side of leaving Cid was SeeD. But if she hadn't left, would there have even been a need? It's a catch-22 as you see."

"Ugg…" with a groan of frustration, Rinoa re-angled herself onto the bed and fell back into the pillows. He had wanted, needed, to tell her everything – that's what he said upon entering this room. And she had made the mistake of assuming that it would lead to a clarification of sorts.

"So you can't leave me. You can't be with me. You can't hide me and you can't let me out in public," she summarized quietly. "You're looking for happy medium between Adel and Edea and Odin's Sorceress. Even though we don't even know if that last one ended up happily either."

"It at least ended with no wars. With no people dying," he defended, rolling slowly closer to the head of the bed. "It's the best situation so far. You're safe here. And I can handle the cravings. I'm trained to deny my needs when necessary. The one glitch in the plan, the one I've still trying to figure out, is…" he took a moment to scan her spartan room. A plain cot, a miniscule closet and a desk. Only the basics. Having spent most of her time on the third floor, she hadn't yet bothered to decorate. And she loved to decorate. Her chaotic office desk was proof.

The room was so cold. So sterile. So NOT Rinoa.

"You can't live like this," he mentioned quietly.

"Like what?"

"You remember the tower. The rooms? She may have been locked in there but she had everything a girl could ever want. Cooking accoutrements, stacks of books, instruments, jewels…"

"You're doing it again," Rinoa interrupted hotly.

"What?"

"Being a jackass."

"What? How-" he replayed his words in his head and then quickly shook it to deny everything. He only noticed then, for the first time, how weird it was for the motion not to send hair into his eyes. "I didn't mean it like that. Of course she could have been destined for greater things. She was meant to rule Centra. My point is; Odin took care of her. He tried at least."

"I don't _need_ anyone to take care of me." To prove her point she leapt up off the bed and headed toward her closet. Because the room had looked so primp and neat, Squall was shocked to see the catastrophe upon the doors being pulled open. The miniscule opening was crammed with stuff, one on top of the other, taking up every inch space. "I've been meaning to sort through this crap forever. Carraway seemed to have dumped my entire bedroom in that shipment to me. Half of which was unicorn bed sheets, matching curtains and other frilly decorations. Those went out with the trash of course."

"Rinoa, I'm just saying…"

"I have my books and- and I've always intended to take back up the piano…" she moved forward to grasp the edge of what looked like a black keyboard and pulled with all her might. Alas, the surrounding items would not relinquish their hold. "Just because I'm not your assistant and just because I'm stuck in this hellhole does not mean I can't be productive with my time. Right?"

"That's only fair," he admitted, cringing as he noted the keyboard's state of disrepair. It must have been at least fifteen years old. "You can do whatever you want. Regardless of your outlook towards my actions, I have indeed been trying to make you happ-"

"And I don't intend to have a free ride here. I'll work in the cafeteria. Or-or the library."

"Rinoa, you don't have to-"

"Despite what I was called back in the day Squall, I am no princess!" she spat at him furiously. "I don't need a knight in shining, leather armor fighting for me and- and _entertaining_ me. I don't want it either."

"I was just saying. This room is-"

"You know what Squall? We're done. Get out."

The Commander blinked, wondering for a millisecond if the woman standing before him with her finger sternly pointed toward to door was a hallucination brought on by the pain killers. And here he thought that she understood. That she got it.

"Look, you're obviously still pissed. I think we should talk about it. And I _never_ think to talk about things. Proving how much we need to talk about this."

"I'm not pissed Squall. And I do get it. I got it before you came down here." She picked up and then dropped to the floor an unshapely article of clothing that was part of the closet meteor. Way too small and way too tacky, but one of the many useless things she attributed to her mother and therefore couldn't let go of. "But it did help. You coming here. I appreciate it. It quenched my anger, but not my disappointment. And I still don't think we need to make it worse by spending more time together than strictly necessary. Okay?"

"It's not gonna be this way forever," he tried to assure her. "As I said in my twisted version to Council, it was a ten year plan. Ten years before Odin went back to his sorceress and they lived quietly. Ten years and people forgot about her and let them be. Who knows? Maybe the waiting is the key? Maybe it's the trick to taming whatever that terrifying hormone is that will make us crazy and power hungry. The one that makes me sometimes want to kill Nida for daring to hit on you, even though I have no right. Even though I've encouraged it."

"Ha. Only ten years, huh?" she couldn't believe how he was considering an entire decade, a decade that was meant to be the prime of their lives, could be spent in such a limbo. "Well don't worry. Nida's…not my type. Nor will he ever be."

'_Only you,' _she thought sadly. _'It has only ever been you.'_

'_I know. I'm sorry,'_ was his unexpected reply, sounding far away and underwater in her head. _'Maybe…someday…'_

She laughed then. It was rather funny. The entire basis of his socialization thesis in the Angelia Policy was as a way to keep her hoping and out of his head. After today she had almost no hope and yet full access to his head. She silently thanked him for the confession that was sure to have been traumatic for him. Now they had their own little secret. And the Council was down one point.

"Keep looking," she requested of him as he rolled towards the door, fiddling with one of her old rainbow toe socks as a distraction for her eyes. "I'll look too. We'll figure this out. We have to."

"The only source I have left, the last thing that can potentially give us answers, is Odin," he moved towards the door, reaching up to unlatch the security chain. "For both our sakes, if I can catch him, and I will catch him eventually, I hope he has a solution. Cause if he doesn't? Then..."

Rinoa's hand automatically reached up to clench her necklace as his wordless answer reached her brain.

"Then another nine years in the tower is the only choice," she repeated aloud, reluctantly nodding. "Yes…I get it. And I'll stay here. I promise."

"It may be the only way," he asserted morosely. "I'm sorry. I…I wish it could have been different."

He didn't dare look back to see Rinoa's heartbroken expression before rolling out the door and down the hallway.

At least, now, she knew the truth. Only time would tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_'Review and thou shalt receive' _­ - the gospel according to Mayonaka.

Thank you guys so much for your support. Even little comments like "I'm reading your story and it's not horrible" are greatly appreciated. Despite my want to stagger the chapter releases, I'm updating today to prove that review bribes work! A fast update for all your kind efforts.

Notes about this chapter: I can't stop laughing at that "I am the fuel that makes you combust" line. It's just asking for giggles from Squall fangirls (like moi). Ten second after typing it I was like "aw, hell no. This is way too gay. Buuuttt…" And here it remains. Hope things make a little more sense to everyone now. It's still meant to be a little confusing since, hell, the characters themselves are confused. But at least Squall's jerkiness is slightly explained.

This is the last fully written chapter. As usual, reviews inspire me to spend my spare time writing instead of being more productive in school :P.

I also want to take a moment to thank fellow fanfiction author Jayliyah, who added me on msn years ago to harass updates from me and has since become a good online friend. Thank you.

Thanks everybody.


	11. Shatter

***Re-upload. See Author's note below**

_Happiness in the present is only __shattered__ by comparison with the past._

**-- Doug Horton**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 11: …_Shatter_ …

"Well I must say miss Heartily," Kadowaki began packing up her utensils, an unexpectedly exuberant smile on her lips. "This is the most enjoyable session I've had with you yet. I'm so glad Quistis was able to sort things out with the Council."

"Yes…yes I'm very grateful to her," Rinoa chuckled awkwardly while rubbing her arms.

It had been two weeks since the revelation of the Angelica Policy and this was her first check up that had not required a spiked inoculation and secret cell scrapings."I-I just didn't want you to have to go through all that again. Just ask and I'll tell, I promise. I don't like secrets."

"I believe you sweetheart," Kadowaki said happily "and I do appreciate it. It's never fun being forced to subvert a patient. Especially one as kind as yourself. It's such a relief. Really."

"Really?" the sorceress couldn't help but question.

The doctor's mood, though pleasant, seemed oddly unmoved by the change in program that had been such a big deal to her patient. Rinoa would have been suspicious but, then again, the woman had lived in Garden since its conception and had been a front line field medic in two of the bloodiest wars of this century. It would probably take a lot more than a revelation of exposed agendas to jostle the woman's apparently infallible coolness

No wonder Squall was so intimidated by her. She was steel incarnate while he was mere marble. Rinoa, on the other hand, thought herself more as a soft and malleable clay.

"Anything else I should be worried about?" the doctor asked after packing up the skin and blood samples. "Anything new you've notice about your body?"

Rinoa stiffened despite all attempts not to.

_Don't act suspicious. Don't act suspicious. _She chanted in her mind.

"Um…nope. Nothing at all. Nada." She kicked her feet restlessly from where they were dangling over the counter. "I am completely the same," she added just for some extra confirmation. "Nothing going on here."

_Good work Rinoa_, she criticized herself. _Not sketchy at allllll…_

Kadowaki gave her a quick glance from over her clipboard, eyebrows raised.

"Are you sure?" she prompted with a hint of warning. "I don't have another appointment for fifteen minutes. We can talk."

Rinoa let out an overly breathy giggle. "Oh I'm fine. Just a little stressed about the Garden Festival ya know? Selphie wants six original songs in the next two months! Its…it's just getting to me…Stress. That's all."

Kadowaki didn't even bother moving. She remained standing in front of the doorway, clipboard in hand, pen poised, eyebrows raised: giving her a second chance to reformulate her excuse.

"It's…its nothing!" Rinoa insisted, all too soon caving to the woman's uncomfortable staring. "There's no point even bothering you with it. It's stupid."

"Nothing regarding your health is stupid miss Heartily. I tell this to all my patients," she assured her with just a hint of condescension. "Need I remind you, not thirty seconds ago, of your promise that if I asked, you would tell. It's the only way the Council will let this work."

"I know, I know. But this isn't really something relevant. It's not like I started sprouting horns or anything, as you can see." She tapped the top of her head and then paused in confusion while rubbing at her temple. "Wait. What the..." she rubbed more furiously for a few more seconds before swiftly turning and yelling "BOO!" towards the doctor.

Kadowaki did not seem at all fazed. Strange. It always worked on the junior classmen.

"I was…kidding," she explained clumsily. "Heh. Can I go now?"

"Rinoa," she was now using her low authoritative voice. No longer the jolly-doctor but the stern chief of surgery of Balamb Garden and a member of the World Council's health care committee. "Everything is relevant in accordance to you. If you so desire, I can strip this from the record. Just as long as **I** know. I need to know everything in order to treat you properly in the future. Okay? Do you understand?"

Rinoa whimpered pathetically and slumped in her seated posture. "I swear it's nothing pertinent to my powers. Please let it go? As a woman to a woman? A favor in the name of sisterhood?"

"Do you want to go back to the inoculations?" the doctor suggested. "Cause I got them right there in the cabinet? Literally, right there. It'd be easy to get them."

"No, no," she grumbled in defeat. As brilliant as it had seemed at the beginning of this appointment to lay everything on the table, now she actually wished the woman had made her semi-conscious as usual. "I'll tell you. I have no choice I guess. What does it matter if I die of embarrassment?"

"Yesterday I had to give a fifteen-year-old cadet a colonoscopy. Is it really worse than having someone stick a camera up where the sun don't shine? Or is it worse than the day before yesterday when I had to stitch back on three of a student's finger after he tried to open his wedged locker with his lancet?"

"…No?" Rinoa guessed was the proper answer, though she almost sincerely preferred those alternatives. Leave it to Kadowaki to attempt to give her some perspective and instead make her feel worse.

"So then," the doctor left her clipboard and pen on the counter top, raising her hands to prove she was unarmed before folding them over her massive chest "tell me what's going on?"

Rinoa took a deep, agonizing breath.

"It's stupid…" she reminded the growingly impatient woman.

"So I've heard. Moving on please."

"An-And it's only been a few days. It'll probably stop," she was nodding her head, smiling a tad hysterically in agreement with herself. "It's normal to happen, I guess. Sometimes. But I can't control it. The only odd thing is that I can't control it. And that's weird right? You should be able to…control such things. It requires a certain state of mind and usually certain actions. Not just sitting in a room going about your usual day and then…poof!"

Kadowaki's eye narrowed, objectivity dissipating as curiosity got the better of her. "Depends on what the hell you're talking about?"

"I mean, I know I'm not normal. I'm reminded every day here that I'm far from normal. But this…this is really weird. They don't tell you about this in the books."

"Rinoa," the doctor took a bold step closer, bending slightly to be at eye level with her raving patient. "Eventually, at some point this decade hopefully, you're going to actually have to tell me what's going on. Okay? I'll help you. _'Dr. Kadowaki __**(blank)**__ has been happening to me. It's weird.'_ And voila, you're done!"

Another deep breath to expel the looming hysteria.

"Dr. Kadowaki," she began, her voice loud with fake confidence. "I…I…Can I-" she was losing it, her eyes frantically scanning the room for anything to get her out of speaking. "Can I borrow this?" she asked finally, pointing to the clipboard at her side.

"I-I don't see why not," the doctor answered slowly, her uncertainty obvious in her expression.

"Thanks," she quickly scrawled a note in the comment box and passed it back. "There you go."

Kadowaki was still eyeing her suspiciously before taking the clipboard in her hands and repositioning her spectacles back on her nose from where they hung around her neck.

"_Dr. Kadowaki I am having_…" she paused her reading, bringing the paper closer to her face in order to make sure she wasn't imagining it; that it wasn't a typo of some sorts even though Rinoa's writing was a rather tidy print.

"That _is_ weird," she commented at last, rather unprofessionally.

"I told you so."

* * *

Hot dogs. Yet again.

Ug.

He guessed the cafeteria staff had taken him a little too seriously when he threatened to set fire to their beds in their sleep if they didn't keep more of the vile things stocked, per Zell's request. The martial artist of course couldn't be happier, taking his tray from the lunch lady with a loud and energetic "Thank ya sweetheart! Yet again, you made my day!"

The stout woman blushed, liver spots positively glowing, and gave him a small wave in return.

Squall sneered. His friend really needed to get some other obsession. The supposed girlfriend from the library still seemed to be in a meager second place in comparison to the tubes of over processed meat. It was pretty pathetic. As was his insistence on treating the cafeteria staff like gods for, literally, feeding his addiction.

"She dumped a package into a steamer and then put them in a bun. It's not rocket science. In fact, for what I'm paying her, there should be a freakin' rose carved out of the thing," he violently ripped his own tray out of the now inexplicably quivering woman's hands. "Can you do that for me?" he paused to read her name tag "Rose? Hey, what a coincidence. A rose from a Rose."

"I-I don't think…" the terrified server took a large step backward, her eyes frantically scanning the counter. "I'm not really t-trained. But-But I guess I could- I could try…"

"He's joking Rosie darlin'," Zell interjected with a wide, false smile, adding a whispered "_chill out"_ through his teeth to his companion. "Great service, as always. Keep it up!"

He then forcefully linked his arm into the Commander's, helping him hobble with his crutch toward the nearest empty seats. Upon seeing them approach, all students within a twenty chair radius instantly grabbed their meals and shuffled into the furthest reaches of the cafeteria, scattering like rats when a flashlight beam turned on them. Or, in Squall's case, more like a flamethrower.

"I'm fine," Squall grumbled once they were a few steps from the counter, violently yanking his arm free of Zell. "The flesh is cured. I just still can't put too much pressure on the bones. I do not need to be escorted everywhere."

"Oh it's not for _your_ safety that I'm following you around," Zell explained casually. "I think a student over there actually fainted when they saw you come in. Need to make sure they don't bleed too much from the head before we get them to the infirmary, ya know? Seeing as everyone else is _paralyzed in fear!_"

"Stop exaggerating," the Commander insisted while awkwardly trying to fit his still casted leg into the bench-like seats of the table. He growled low in his throat after a few seconds of failed attempts. "These tables are a hazard. Who the hell ordered these tables? They're fired, whoever they are."

"Yeah, you're not acting crazy at all right now," Zell nodded in sarcastic accord, taking the first delicious bite before he had even fully lowered himself into place. "Osh man. Zat's zee shtuffsh…"

Finally seated, Squall eyed his plate with obvious distaste, pushing it away after no more than five seconds consideration.

"What the hell are you doing?" his blonde colleague asked with a full, shocked mouth. "You need to keep your strength up. And these are the best kind too! The extra meaty ones!"

"I'm not in the mood to clog my arteries today." He instead moved toward his bowl of pudding and immediately an angry grumble escaped his lips.

"What? What now? You wanted it molded into a swan perhaps?"

"There's a damn hair it. What the hell? It's not like it's a hard job. Open box, serve, don't get your damn gross biologicals in it."

"Hey, hey, it's no big deal," Zell insisted with a suddenly panicked tone. "This stuff happens. Look, I'll just get you a new one. No muss no fuss." He leaned over to reach for the bowl but was interrupted by a tight grip on his wrist, forcing him backwards with a nearly inhuman strength. The blonde let loose an involuntary wince from both the pain and from his boss' inexplicably freezing fingers.

"No. This is unacceptable. They need to know that this is not acceptable."

"I'll tell them! I swear. It took a full thirty seconds to get you into that seat, why waste that time getting up again when I can do it in two? Efficiency remember? You always prided yourself on efficiency."

"But-"

"Squall please. I gotta tell ya, one more outburst to the cafeteria staff and you won't have one anymore."

His gaze rose to meet his friends', brows furrowed in confusion. "One what?"

"A cafeteria! Cause they'll burn it down. With you in it! And, quite possibly, me in it! And I'm too pretty to die!"

He sighed in annoyance and made to get up anyway. "It's my job to ensure the highest standards are upheld here."

"No. No its not. We have a guy for that. Literally. The quality assuranceguy, it's in his title."

"Well then he tooneeds to be reminded of what his job entails."

He made to get up again but, luckily, in the seconds it took for him to get his injured leg out from under the table, Zell always had the opportunity to push him back down into his seat."Nu-uh. I'm not letting you tear them a new one _yet again_. Especially since things just finally started going good for me around here."

"Do you have some weird fetish for eating other people's hair? Cause if so, you have way greater problems that the hot dog thing. Not all of us want to join in your perversions."

"Those poor people are terrified of you!" Zell finally couldn't help but plainly announce. "Yesterday you made Paolo cry!"

"Who's Paolo?"

"The 300 pound, 40-year-old, ex-ultimate fighter champion! He could snap me over his knee in a heartbeat and yet he can't stand ten seconds with you, even when separated by a glass partition."

"Sounds like Paolo needs to toughen up."

"Sounds like you are INSANE."

"Stop it," Squall warned in a tired manner, really not in the mood. "People are just particularly incompetent this week"

"No. No they're not. I'm completely serious about the 'you've gone nuts' thing. Have you actually not noticed the students _ducking_ and _hiding _when you approach? Is it possible that your heart was actually in your hair? How do we get it back? Will it grow fast enough? Or do we hafta fish it out of the drain and glue it to your skull before you kill us all!"

It required several deep breaths to recuperate from the long speech. But if he managed to get across to Squall in some minute way, preferably with his bones intact, then it was more than worth it.

For two weeks now, ever since his injury and amplifying when the students and SeeDs had returned from vacation only a few days ago, Squall had been a jerk. And not his usual 'I'm an aloof loner' type jerk, but the kind you honestly considered pushing down a elevator shaft and would probably not feel the slightest shred of remorse for. The kind that, if you found barely alive at the bottom of said elevator shaft, you probably wouldn't even call the hospital. And, later on if it did happen to come out that you were the culprit of either crime, there would be at least two, maybe three, parties in your honor.

"I'm telling you this as your friend," Zell ensured carefully. "And as your friend, I gotta say: You, as of late? Are an ass."

He braced himself, knowing there was the high possibility of a thick ceramic plate being smashed over his head at any second. But Squall was silent, dishearteningly poking his hot dog with a spoon. This continued for a full minute until Zell decided he may as well finish his lunch while waiting for death.

"I'm not…_trying_ to be an ass," the Commander eventually insisted quietly, eyes still fixed in a grimace to his ruined meal. "I just want…my damn pudding…without hair in it. Is that so much to ask?"

In response, Zell took the opportunity of his distraction to swipe the bowl under his nose. Squall let him take it, fists clenched on either side of his tray, obviously struggling with the odd desire to beat up midgets or whatever it was he needed to blow off steam.

"I'll get you a new pudding. Hair free," Zell assured him, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder as thanks for not blowing a gasket.

"Don't bother," he called out when his colleague had gotten no more than two steps away. He threw his crumpled napkin into the untouched plate and stood up in one fluid moment, crutch instantly positioned beneath his left shoulder. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Before the blonde could protest, he was stalking out of the cafeteria, notably the most intimidating figure to have ever walked these halls with the aid of a stick. A poor girl who hadn't noticed she was in his path until he was but a few steps away had to literally dive to avoid him. The sound of her plate shattering on the linoleum flooring echoed throughout the ghastly silent cafeteria.

Zell sighed, watching Paolo and Rose from behind the counter through his peripheral vision. They were giving Squall's retreating form some kind of rude hand gesture, mimicked also by Rose's usually impeccably mannered eight-year-old granddaughter who had been, understandably, hiding up until then.

"Whoa, it's like a funeral parlor in here. What did I miss?" a voice came up from behind him with a distinctly southern drawl.

Zell shot Irvine a wry grin from over his shoulder. "Just Mr. Sunshine delivery his daily dose of heart attacks, tears and all around terror to the general populace."

"Still? I figured he'd let it up after getting out of that chair."

"It's not the injury that's bugging him…" with a groan of annoyance, he returned to his lunch, pushing Squall's tray aside to make room for Irvine opposite him.

"Is this the part where I suggest we come up with some daring plan to get those crazy kids together once and for all? Cause, you know usually I would. But in his current state I wouldn't put it past him to crucify me or some other equally long and elaborate punishment at the first whiff he gets of my scheming." The cowboy paused to take a healthy bite of his lunch. "mmm…Ish sha good dogsh todaysh!"

"I know right!" Zell smiled, happy at having traded for a rational lunch partner. "Squall wouldn't even touch them."

"Well his lost, and," he dragged the rejected tray back towards them "more for us!"

"Ha! Nice." He reached for the one of Squall's two dogs and added it cheerfully to the collection of four already on his plate. At least something good came out of his boss' recent niceness-obotomy. "And as for Squall? He'll get over it. Eventually. Hopefully. He's just…coping badly."

"And Rinoa won't even consider returning as his assistant?" Irvine asked. "Not even if we told her that the lives of several cute orphans depended on it? Which may sound like a ruse, but is actually quite true when you think about it."

"Naw. Whatever happened, he pissed her off big time. And she's not hearing any of it. You should see them together man. They don't talk. It's just like this…chilly silence." He shuddered in remembrance of the last time he, Squall and Rinoa had by coincidence, due to lack of seats, had breakfast with one another. "So weird. I'm so used to them bickering all the time it's like expected background noise. Now it's like-" he paused to think of a good example, taking a tiny bite of his hot dog as he did. "It's like going to Balamb market and not hearing that irritating mall music that's been playing every day, all day, all my life. It would freak me out. And this? Squall and Rinoa? Not talking? It's the dictionary definition of freaky."

"Well we have to do something," the cowboy insisted, taking his share of Squall's lunch bounty and shoving half of it in his mouth. "A few more days like this and someone definitely is gonna try to kill the man. And I wouldn't blame them."

"**Señor**!"

Both the SeeD's heads popped up to see Paolo, the bulky cafeteria worker racing towards them. "**Señor**, stop!"

"What? What's wrong Pa-"

Irvine made a sudden gagging noise, interrupting.

"Oh my Hyne…" he gasped frantically, eyes wide and terrified. "Oh no."

"What? What's going-" but then he saw it. And the same unstoppable desire to wretch overwhelmed all other senses.

In between the buns they had just stolen from Squall's tray. It wasn't **just** relish the cafeteria workers had used as garnish.

* * *

The second Squall cleared the threshold of his office, the potted plant to his immediate right was the first thing to go. Before the deed could even been properly acknowledge by his brain, his crutch was already in the midst of the swing that caused the pottery to shatter and his pristine grey carpet to be showered with black filth.

Of course he hesitated after that rather involuntarily reaction, noting with a cringe how the ensuing clean up to hide the evidence was far from worth the moment of gratification. But then that thought made him even angrier. In the next instant he had his graduation certificate frame yanked off the wall and was pitching it was all his might toward the bookshelf.

It hit with an echoing thud, the shattering and tinkling rain of the glass like euphoric music to his ears.

It made him smile. It made him want more.

But he had to stop. He knew he had to stop. What if they were watching right now? What if they found out why? Odine would know. That psychopath knew everything. He wouldn't have put it past them to continue the surveillance of his office, despite her being gone. After all, to the doctor, he was as interesting a subject as she was.

So, for what felt like the millionth time within just that hour, Squall clenched his fists, closed his eyes and took several long and deep breaths to bring it back under control. If it weren't for this damn injury, he could have gone to the training center as usual instead of taking it out on the furniture. But he didn't have much of a choice since Cid had banned him from entry upon penalty of suspension until Kadowaki officially sanctioned him as fully healed. And Hyne forbid he get suspended. Work was the only practical distraction he had while beating up inanimate objects was frowned upon.

It took a minute or two, but eventually he had calmed down enough to open his eyes, keeping them strictly focused on the desk in front of him to avoid the mess that was sure to unravel all his efforts so far. In a few hobbled steps he was positioned to lower himself into his plush leather chair, sighing as he noticed that he couldn't feel anymore the usually cold surface of the desk beneath his hands. Their temperatures were now too similar, too lifeless.

It was getting worse.

He could only pray that the lack of training was the answer. Once back on his feet it would go back to how it was; irritating but manageable. He just needed to avoid her until then, to not be tempted by her invigorating warmth, knowing it was the only thing that could possibly satiate this…this hollowness.

The knowledge of how easy it would be, yet how impossible, made him need to shut his eyes again as he finally lowered himself fully into the chair. He dare not even think about what his body wanted him to think about. Something told him that no matter how far apart they were at this moment, she would hear his sheer desperation. The restricted access to the third floor wouldn't stop her, her concern overriding all logical barriers. She'd burst into this office and he'd instantly feel life flow back into his veins. The cameras wouldn't matter then. Nothing else would matter ever again as long as he got to be with her that one, single time. He'd then happily accept their executions.

Squall's eyes popped open, in this case deeming the slaughter of inanimate objects to be safer than remaining within his conscience.

It couldn't end like that. It wouldn't.

He reached for his inbox, suddenly desperate for something, anything, to take his mind off Rinoa. Alas, he had forgotten that during a rather brutal string of the last few sleepless nights, he had completed, edited and in some cases completely re-written all the contract requests from both the next and the last three months.

Every SeeD was occupied. Every single gil accounted for. Every fathomable project conceived by the Council was either processed, in production or near completion. They were operating at a level of efficiency never even dreamed of under NORG and Cid's direction. A new Garden was being built in Esthar to keep up with the world's demand. Quistis was putting her marketing genius to work for recruiting not mercenaries, but proud global soldiers, keepers of peace. Being a SeeD was no longer a last resort for hopeless orphans but a legitimate career that even the sons and daughters of the rich and powerful considered. Especially since the risk of death was far less serious with no hint of an impending war. The exchange program also guaranteed that cadets from all over the world attended every Garden so that no one school had too great a connection to its homeland.

The structure was perfect. Everything was running smoothly. He had known it would be. That was why he and Cid had scheduled the vacation for when they did.

The schools were full and beginning a new semester, keeping the instructors and cadets busy. SeeD team leaders were stationed at every building site, every city. He couldn't exactly leave to check up on them even if he wanted to. Besides, he had already hired someone to do that a while back.

It was all done. There was literally nothing to do. Everything was, for lack of a better word, perfect.

Shit.

A knock sounded at the door. It was the first time in his life that that sound had ever been pleasant to him.

It took him a few beats and another impatient knock before he remembered that he still hadn't bothered to hire a new assistant. And until he somehow found the courage to even hold interviews, menial tasks such as directing guests were his responsibility.

The wave of angry annoyance that swept through him then almost inspired a smirk. For it was a hell of a lot more welcome than any of the other emotions currently vying for dominance of his mind.

"I'm coming!" he yelled toward the door while struggling to extricate himself from the desk. What suicidal idiot had come to bug him now? A cadet to reprimand perhaps? Xu, Cid's assistant, with some new contracts? Zell in a huff because of what he had failed to mention the cafeteria staff had obviously done to his hotdogs, knowing the greedy blonde would steal them? Each option was more appealing than the next.

The Commander decided to savor the moment's distraction by taking his time standing up, internally reveling that his injury at least gave him an additional excuse to being beyond his usual insensitive self.

Right on cue, another, more firm knock echoed throughout the empty office. Their impatience with his pace fueled his rage to capacity. What a jerk. He was freakin' wounded AND the Commander! It would be their last stupid mistake…

He was still a few feet from the door when he heard an irate female voice mumble _"for the love of…"_ followed by the telltale click of the bio-lock releasing.

Squall froze in place then. Nowadays, only one woman had access to his office, the one woman who outranked him. Also, the one person he took no pleasure in arguing with, mainly because she was also the one person that he couldn't intimidate.

"Dammit Quistis," he growled upon watching her rudely slam the door behind her, hugging a steel clipboard to her chest. "You know I'm stuck in crutches. Why the hell didn't you just come in?"

"Ha!" Quistis titled her head backward with sarcastic hilarity. "You? The guy who just yesterday punched a hole through a _window_ when a medical cadet mispronounced 'anesthesia'? You're wondering why I didn't just barge in here?"

His eyes narrowed but didn't want to give her the benefit of a response. Somehow, he figured his 'that cadet was an idiot' excuse wouldn't be a substantial enough reason for causing more than 2000 gil worth of damage to the building.

"Is that what you came to lecture me about?" he asked while turning to hobble back to his desk. "I paid for it out of my own salary didn't I? It won't happen again. Drop it."

"Oh don't you worry Commander. I think enough of Garden are discussing your psychosis to make up for me avoiding it completely. I have better things to-" a crunching noise beneath her feet caused her to pause, only then bothering to note the rather disastrous state of the office. The sound had been caused by her heel stepping through a rather thick piece of green ceramic. Not from his certificate frame a few minutes earlier, but from a lamp that had once rested on his desk. It had met its untimely end a couple of days prior. He must have missed a piece.

With a clear expression of both revulsion and awe on her face, Quistis bent down to retrieve the fragment, turning it over in her palm. She then carefully surveyed the rest of the room, her keen memory picking up on the many items that had mysteriously disappeared since her stint as Commander ended less than a week ago.

Two standing lamps, one desk lamp, three plants, two chairs, six framed pictures, the fax machine, and the assistant's desk, the _entire_ desk. Gone.

Upon finishing her 360 degree tour, Quistis' eyes returned to land on Squall's. His carpet was still covered in dirt and glass from his most recent breakdown, voiding any potential excuse of "redecorating" nor even that he had maybe auctioned off the pieces for extra cash. An interrogation was unnecessary, that she knew. But a blunt reminder of the consequences couldn't hurt.

"If this continues," she said in her lowest, most authoritative of voices "you won't just be suspended. You'll be demoted and replaced. Am I understood?"

Squall's lips pressed together, not daring to answer. He too knew very well that it had to stop. The Commander couldn't be caught doing such juvenile, unruly things. Even though it wasn't hurting anybody. Even though it was really the healthiest outlet he currently had. It may be acceptable if he went back to being a normal SeeD, who wasn't under so much scrutiny. But then he would be sent away on missions. He wouldn't be on the Council. That wasn't an option either. He just needed to find another way of letting it out.

But he couldn't train. He couldn't do something so public as to break things and risk his station. He sure as hell couldn't do the thing he wanted most.

There were no viable alternatives.

_Hyne, there were no other options._

"Squall…" Quistis whispered, her tone having suddenly switched to one of concern. "Squall are you okay?"

His mouth opened, wanting to remind her that his issues were none of her business, but no sound would come out. It was like his throat had closed.

Weird.

"Squall," the co-headmistress dropped her clipboard and closed the gap between them, her free hands boldly grasping him by the shoulders, holding him up. A minute ago the gesture would have caused him to violently shrug her away, but now he couldn't seem to find the brain capacity. He could only stare at her with a furrowed brow, wondering why he couldn't breathe. Wondering how pitiable he must somehow now seem, that would coax her into daring to touch him.

"Squall its okay," her grip tightened on his shoulders. "I'm here. Just breathe, okay?"

If he didn't know any better, Quistis' actions would have made him think he was having a panic attack. But he didn't have panic attacks. Selphie had frequent panic attacks in the days prior to any public Balamb event. Zell had an attack the one time the cafeteria implied they'd be out of dogs for weeks, not days. Squall didn't panic. It was why he had been given this job. Panicking was beneath him.

This assertion almost made him feel better. Almost. But the breathing issue was starting to become a distraction.

"Relax," she whispered sternly, gradually coaxing his prostrate form backwards and into his leather chair. It was weird; he could hardly feel the pain of putting weight on his leg or the pressure of Quistis' fingertip as they grabbed a hold of his head, forcing it up to look at her. "Don't worry. You know I won't tell anyone. I know you're stressed, especially because you can't train. But we need to think of something else then, okay? Garden and I cannot work with you like this. You can barely function like this. We'll think of something. It'll all work out in the end. I promise. Just relax."

"You-you make it sound…so simple…" he managed to croak out, laughing through wheezes. His own voice sounded far away, slipping off into the tempting oblivion. He reminded himself that he hadn't slept in days, one of the many reasons for whatever this resulting episode was. Being unconscious, maybe that was the solution to all his problems. Unconscious people didn't feel, didn't react. A very appealing prospect.

"It's too damn hot in here! No wonder you're dizzy." He felt Quistis' presence slink away followed soon enough by the arctic blast of the air conditioner he had purposefully turned off days ago. The air hit his skin with the force ice being directly injected into his veins, shocking him awake with a loud wince.

Quistis was back a second later with an insistent hand on his forehead, searching for a fever. "Hyne! What the…" instantly, her hand retracted from his brow, shaking it as if burnt "you're freezing!"

"I'm fine," he grumbled, focusing all his concentration on not shuddering from the saturating cold. He took a moment to sit up in the chair and straighten the collar of his uniform, all too soon back to his normal, impervious self. "And I don't need your help."

"Fine. Sorry I bothered." With a careful step backward, Quistis picked up her clipboard from the floor and moved to the other side of the desk facing him. Proving that she too could instantly switch masks. In this case from concern friend back to disappointed superior. "I am serious though. This is the last straw. If one more person comes crying to me about you threatening to disembowel them because of something ridiculous like they're in your favorite _public library_ seat, you're out. I don't care how competent you once were."

Squall gulped and then reluctantly nodded, swallowing the painfully blunt insult. The library chair incident was rather unreasonable now that he thought about it.

"I shall…try," he responded as honestly as possible. After all, there was no guarantee that it wouldn't happen again. It wasn't exactly in his control. But he would at least accept his punishment with outward dignity. Regardless of the extreme complications it would cause in his life. But he'd deal with that if and when it came up. Now was neither the time nor the place nor the company to freak out in front of.

With a whimper, Quistis raised and dropped her hands. Obviously unconvinced with his answer. "This is ridiculous!" she told him heatedly. "You're the best, most disciplined SeeD in the world. Why do you have to _try_ not and randomly attack things, huh?"

Squall almost laughed, knowing that the reality was so ultimately ridiculous that a lie would be easier to swallow.

"It's complicated," he choose to reply. Knowing very well that it wouldn't satisfy.

Quistis of course only ever so slowly folded her arms over her chest, eyebrows raised in warning. _'Try again' _her expression seemed to say. With a sigh, Squall fell further back into her chair, fingers running his hair that was surely sticking up in all directions after having given up trying to tame it.

An answer was apparently necessary. He choose a simple one, one that hopefully matched his reputation but also included part of the hidden truth Quistis was already partly aware of.

"I've trained every day since I can remember," he reminded her factually, daring to meet her stare. "This," he gestured to his leg, the thick cast still obvious under the wool pants "is the bane of my existence. It doesn't suit me."

"Sooo…you're making up for being useless by making things more difficult for everyone else?"

Squall gave her the benefit of a slight smirk, appreciating the pointed sting of her evaluation. "Overcompensating would be the word," he corrected sternly. "And then, of course, there's…" his eyes wandered over toward the front of the large empty room, to where her desk used to stand. The desk that he had since hacked into fire kindle on his first day back in office.

"There's what?" Quistis asked, purposefully playing dumb. "What other event could have possibly put you in so sour a mood?"

They met eyes again, the glare and the smirk having switched owners.

He wouldn't say it. Especially not here where the cameras may still be watching. But Quistis understood, apparently satisfied with at least the implication. Admitting it, even if silently, she believed to be one step closer to actually doing something about it. Not just moping around Garden spreading the hate to everyone within a fifty meter radius.

He missed her. Why was that so damn hard to say? In fact, that was why she was here.

"Look at this," she ordered while tossing the steel clipboard she held onto his desk.

With trepidation, he reached out and brought the thick pile of paper closer to his edge. His fingers were inexplicably shaking as they flipped through the documents, half expecting one to be the indictment he so dreaded, half expecting it to be more useless paper work that would only resurrect the viciously irritating routine he had created for himself.

To his shock and…he couldn't tell whether elation or dismay…he noted that the thick pile contained neither. It was in fact, one document. The one that had sentenced him to his true torment; being up here alone.

"You…you've rewritten it," he stated, beginning to more frantically skim through the pages. Nodding his head at some things, shaking it at others.

Quistis smiled. "I tried to at least," she admitted quietly. In a risky move of solidarity, she walked around to his side of the desk, reading over his shoulder. "The current Policy wasn't really relevant any more. Specially your socialization section. Did you hear? Selphie put her in charge of music for the festival."

"Yeah," Squall nodded, only half paying attention. The document, this Policy that had taken him and a team of technicians over two months to finalize. Quistis had stabbed, slashed and gutted it. That wasn't what was bothering him though. He himself had tried to destroy it, deeming it too restrictive, too specific. But Quistis after two weeks, only two weeks, had made it actually made it more logical, more relevant, catering to both parties' ideas more than any of his drafts ever had. Worst of all, she had obviously also included Rinoa's opinion. Something he had never even considered back in the day.

"She'll live in Garden as a consult," he summarized after reading a few random lines, nodding his head.

She would like that. She hated being useless. He continued on reading for a few minutes, happily acknowledging the good ideas that were sure to satiate everyone, when one specific section, buried in the back almost as if she didn't want him to notice it, caught his immediate and angry attention.

"You want to give her an open pass to leave. No video surveillance. A split of 3 months of the year in each of the 4 Gardens. Ha!" on that note he tossed the clipboard violently back onto the desk. "No way. It's too dangerous. And the Council will never-"

"They already have Squall," she interrupted him, knowing that he'd be the only one against the issue of Rinoa being let out of Garden. "I've spoken to every member of the Council. They've all been sent draft copies. Rinoa's been helping me too. She agrees to the terms. We're having a video conference here in a few days to hash out the details, Rinoa and you included. It'll all be finalized and signed by all the night of the ball, the next summit gathering, at the end of August."

"And you did all this, everything, behind my back?" Squall clarified angrily. The reformatting with recommendations was fine. But talking to the Council, to Rinoa, before affirming things with him, was way out of line. "I'm the Commander Quistis. This should have been my job."

"Whether you like to admit it or not, you tend to over-complicate things when Rinoa's involved," she stated simply, taking the moment of his distraction to slip the clipboard over the mahogany surface and back into her waiting hands. "Cid agrees. The Council agrees. Rinoa agrees. It was a decision beyond you. Deal with it. I just thought you should know. Don't want you spazzing at the meeting next week."

"No," Squall passionately shook his head. "No. Rinoa knows she can't leave Balamb. She knows its suicide."

"What she knows, what we all know, is that you're uncomfortable leaving her unattended. Which is why we've recommended you go with her."

Squall's eyes narrowed at this, not knowing whether to be relieved or insulted. He choose the later, considering the still very recent threat she had made on his job status. "So you're firing me?"

Quistis couldn't help but roll her eyes. Sometimes he could be such a drama queen. "It's a recommendation Squall, not banishment. You'd be Captain of the four Garden Commanders. The Council has never been very comfortable with the fact that our primary administrative team is concentrated here. You'll both still be safe in a Garden. Rinoa will contribute to publicity while you guide the respective individual administrations. Every country will get a chance to see how docile she is. She'll meet new people. She will be happy. You will be less stressed. How can you not see this as a win-win-win?"

"Because there's nothing _winning_ about this situation," he insisted, once again nervously running his fingers through his hair and down his face. Though he knew they needed a change, and he knew this change wasn't really working, Quistis' suggestions were too much. They were too extreme. Balamb Garden was his home. It was the only home he had ever known. It was the only place he felt safe enough himself to make safe for her. "So many things could go wrong. The other Gardens could be compromised. There could-"

"And would could all get hit by lighting in the next thirty seconds. Stop being paranoid. Here," she forcibly returned the clipboard into his unwilling hands. "Read it. If you have any _serious_ improvements, not changes, then email me. Also, you need to give me your decision by that meeting next week."

"What decision?"

"Whether you want to stay as Balamb Commander or Garden Captain, travelling with Rinoa. There are many in line for either job. Namely Nida."

It was the one name that she knew would spur a reaction and he, of course, couldn't help but take the bait. "Nida? Are you serious? Rinoa hates him."

Quistis shrugged and took a few steps backwards toward the door. Whether he deserved to have all this information pushed upon him at once or not, his most recent "hobby" of throwing things made her automatically poise for a quick exit. "If you had bothered checking up on her since your disastrous argument, or actually had a conversation with anyone that didn't begin and end with an insult, you might have heard that Nida has joined the Garden Festival committee. He's helping out with music production of course."

Squall scoffed. The guy was just so pathetically desperate. Rinoa was probably freaking out, having him constantly and incessantly hit on her. The very idea made him cringe with pity. "Someone should remind Selphie that, in some places, that's called stalking."

"You know Squall, in some places it's called being a good friend," she rebutted, a small smile on her pink lips. "Especially since Rinoa _requested_ his help."

She watched him flinch and allowed herself an internal giggle at the blatancy of his reaction. It was hard to know what exactly she wanted or intended from this new Policy and these revelations. Of course, her primary imperative was always to keep Rinoa both docile and under SeeD surveillance. But also, perhaps, somehow another goal had snuck in subconsciously. Especially after having to deal with several days of this new mood of his causing both psychological and now physical damage to Garden.

Squall was unhappy. And for whatever reason, most likely due to the many wasted hours of consoling cadets and organizing repairs, his unhappiness made her unhappy. Whatever the definition of their relationship was, he needed Rinoa. He was a pining, angry, useless corpse without her. And the sooner he realized that, the sooner they could all go back to trying to make the world a better place.

Everyone had a limit to the amount of abuse through indifference that they could take. And Rinoa, as made obvious by her new close friendship with the man she had once labeled 'the creepiest guy in all of Garden', was fast approaching hers. If Squall didn't do something, if someone didn't _make_ him do something, he would lose her. Then he would lose everything.

"Read it. Don't break anything," she reminded the now pensive Commander while taking the last few steps toward the exit. "You have a week. You'll have to decide what's more important to you."

Without waiting a reply, but honestly not expecting one, Quistis gently twisted the knob and walked out. She let loose a wide grin of victory as she jauntily returned to her own office, proud at having finally yet legitimately forced some sort of serious action out of the annoyingly unresponsive Commander.

Soon enough, in six days to be exact, everything would be revealed and rectified.

Five minutes after the door had closed, Squall still hadn't moved. He didn't trust himself to without going on some sort of inappropriate spree. Still, he couldn't avoid the loud snap of the clipboard folding in his hands. It was deemed to be ­­­a more than necessary sacrifice.

_Dammit Quistis._ He cursed, feeling the warm blood begin to seep between his fingers. He squeezed the metal shards tighter on an impulse, the pain blissfully distracting.

_You have no idea what you just started…_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Wrote this in several random fragments in between study breaks. Yay something happening! Love your reviews. They are why I've update despite being submerged in finals. Till next chapter. Thank you all!

*****Update:** I've re-uploaded this chapter due to a ridiculous amount of spelling mistakes and typos. Many of which were just a glitch in fanfiction deleting spaces. I would like to take this opportunity to ask any competent writers reading this if they were interested in become a BETA-READER for me?

Before I upload chapters I do re-read them at least twice. But still, due to their length and probably because I'm frustrated and tired by the last run through, I keep missing stupid things that embarrass me later upon rereading the posted fic - the large font making tiny mistakes glaringly obvious.

Also, I've noticed some stupid story inaccuracies I've missed due to having written this story over 4 years now and, not to mention, inventing new storyline specifics as I go.

For a BETA-READER I'd expect only this: I'd hand off the chapter to you after only one read-through and ask to correct grammar and spelling errors (with the highlighter tool in word so that I can see mistakes. ie: it was useful to learn that _segway_ and _segue_ are NOT the same thing! lol) and then email me any additional notes with inaccuracies and/or recommendations.

If anyone is interested, please email me at townsend..com.

Thanks.


	12. Necessity

_Necessity may be the mother of invention, but play is certainly the father._

**-- Roger Van Oech **

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 12: …_Necessity_ …

It was yet another gorgeous day at Balamb Garden.

The third beautiful day in a row to be exact. And as the sun shone brightly down on the inner courtyards and the invigorating giggles and shrieks of the junior cadets playing reached his ears, Irvine could not help but release the low hum of a jaunty tune as he strutted down the open air corridor that led to the executive-level SeeD rooms.

It had been too long since he had been able to see the faculty and students this relaxed and jovial. In fact, he had never before seen Balamb specifically ever be this carefree. And it was all thanks to not only the great weather, but to one person. Well, actually, to the _lack _of one specific person. The same person he was currently on his way to see.

While rearranging the package he held more securely under his arm, Irvine gave a group of curious female cadets a wink and a tip of his hat before disappearing through the first set of doors that led to the administrator suites. The sound of their high pitched giggling reached him even over the chimes of punching in his security code and passing through the second set of doors, allowing him a gentle smirk of self-satisfaction.

It was comforting to know that he still had 'the gift' with women, despite being in a relationship. His life was currently the perfect combination of regular dates and sleepovers with a girl whose energy level made him feel like he was dating several, and yet he was still able to flirt without the pressure or desire really of getting past that first one-liner.

Life was good.

The weather was awesome. He was in love. He had a satisfying and exciting job. He travelled the world regularly. He was one pay check away from affording the newest and greatest sniper rifle from Estharian engineers; rated the best in the world. Everything, finally, was settling down and falling into its comfortable yet still stimulating place.

These facts he had to repeat to himself over and over as he approached Commander Leonhart's suite. Especially since Zell had dubbed it _'the place all minor feelings of contentment and your will to live goes to die'_ after he had been voted for this exact same purpose of delivering yesterday's mail.

Though the martial artist's notoriously fragile emotions led Irvine to believe that the description may have been slightly exaggerated, it didn't hurt to be prepared for the worst. For today was the third day since Squall had left his office, unexpectedly taking Cid and Quistis up on their repeated offers/demands for him to take a sick leave until his leg and therefore mood healed.

And though his absence had an obviously cathartic effect on the study body, those few who knew him well enough to digest his overtly antagonistic actions over the past few weeks couldn't help but worry. In fact, all four of the orphanage gang unanimously had to agree that there was something…intensely wrong with him lately.

Well, there had always been something _wrong_ with him. What kind of eighteen year old male spent the majority of his free time polishing his gunblade, literally – and not as a euphemism for something else? But this was different sort of wrong.

Where he was once apathetic, he was now blatantly mean. When he had, in the past, disciplined through words, he now threatened physical violence. Where he had once accepted the support of his friends with annoyed reluctance, he now avoided all human contact, brutally and forcefully rejecting any and all efforts to help.

It had been three days since he had, understandably, been asked to temporarily leave his post. And in those three days he hadn't set a foot out of his room. Not for the walk in the unexpectedly brilliant sun. Not for food. Not even to the infirmary to check up on his leg's healing progress, which may have led him to re-entering service earlier than expected.

He just…didn't seem to care anymore. And that was more than a little disturbing to anyone who knew how much he lived and breathed for Garden.

Irvine held the package more tightly under his arm, continuing to hum despite the fact that all desire to had dispersed the moment he entered this hallway. Upon both Zell and, before that, Quistis' return from this very same mission in the days prior, both usually confident SeeDs had seemed as if the life had been drained out of them. Squall had an unusual talent for pushing sensitive buttons, of getting you just flustered and pissed off enough that you'd swear within minutes that he was a heartless asshole who wasn't worth the effort.

And though after two strikes, the team was very near giving up completely, Irvine liked to think that maybe he had a shot in getting the Commander to see sense. Or at the very least, the light of day.

Squall wasn't a bad guy. They all knew that. They had all witnessed it first hand during both the Ultimecia mission and in the year following under his usually rational lead. Though nothing excused this extreme of a personality change no matter what private factors were affecting you, they couldn't help but hope he was but one mere comforting phrase and/or gesture from reverting back to his old indifferent yet manageable self. All they need to do was try…

Repeatedly and relentlessly.

All too soon, the cowboy had arrived. Even from standing before the threshold, he could already sense that it was indeed worthy of Zell's dub_._ It was like the door was radiating a chilly air that seeped into his bones and vanquished any and all inklings of optimism.

Irvine swallowed and unconsciously felt his feet taking inch-long steps backward, cursing himself as he did so. After everything he had done and seen as a SeeD sniper, rank A, it was ridiculous to be intimidated by this. Squall wasn't any legendary beast-man sent from the underworld to unravel people's sanity, as some of his colleagues insisted. He was just a guy, a friend, going through a tough time. He needed help. And the only way he was going to get it was through force feeding.

And thus, with that assertion in mind, Irvine knocked. Regardless of the fact that it was a twice confirmed emotional suicide mission.

"…_What_?" came a muffled, far-off voice not two seconds later, obviously not having bothered to actually get up and go towards the door.

"Hey buddy!" he called back, his voice almost sarcastically exuberant despite all efforts to seem natural. "It's Irvine. I, uh…I got your mail. You have a rather big package here. It's from Deling. I thought you'd wan-"

The door was suddenly yanked violently open, causing Irvine to stumble backwards in surprise at the rush of hot air into the air conditioned hallway. He had barely half a second to register the pale and grossly disheveled figure before the package was yanked out of his grasp and the door was once again closing.

"Hey. Hey!" Irvine scrambled desperately for the opening, succeeding in getting his fingers and, thankfully, a boot in between the door and the threshold before Squall had a chance to slam it completely. Though the steel reinforced tip ensured that there was no damage to his foot, Irvine still let out a loud wince in the shock of what could have happened to his fingers.

"What. The **hell!?**" he screamed loudly as his boot non-too-gently pried the door back open. Squall made no effort to stop him. He simply sighed at his failure while slowly limping back toward the couch as Irvine angrily whipped himself inside, slamming the door forcefully behind him. "What the hell is wrong with you!? I'm a sniper Squall. A SNIPER. Fingers are kind of essential. Dammit…what were you thinking?!"

The Commander grunted unconcernedly.

"I wasn't in the mood for another lecture," he explained while slowly lowering himself to be seated, adjusting his thin, cotton grey pants and stained white t-shirt as he did so. His voice was oddly rough and sluggish to Irvine's ears; like a mixture of someone both destitute and on the wrong side of 70. "Past efforts of telling people to leave me alone have proven ineffective. Ssso I figured I'd skip the formalities. Next time I won't even open the door. Thanks for that realization."

"Squall…" the name dangled on Irvine's lips, waiting to be followed by a rousing and influential speech that would instantly inspire this obviously broken man to grow a pair, get back to work and enjoy life again. Preferably after a shower and shave.

But the words wouldn't come. No such words probably existed. And even if they did, Squall may indeed be past the point of being able to hear them. He watched in horrid fascination as the man he had never seen with a hint of stubble or an un-pressed shirt, lay back on mound of old laundry, scratched his three day old beginnings of a beard, and then brought a half finished cigarette from a ash filled dinner plate up to his lips for a long haul.

The cowboy's mouth fell open in shock. After all those lectures on the risks and stupidity…

"Oh. So you're smoking now?"

Squall shrugged nonchalantly, closing his eyes as he blew out a steady stream of blue smoke. "They distract me."

"Great. Brilliant." Irvine sighed, decidedly having given up on an inspirational speech, and instead took a moment to survey the suite.

Not only was it stiflingly hot, enhancing the sweaty, smoky musk, it was also in nearly a worse state of unkemptness than it owner. Papers were strewn everywhere, laundry and dishes covered almost every surface and from whatever the heck he had been ordering over the past few days, his bedroom area had become a ceiling-high home for unfolded boxes.

He wanted to force him to clean himself up. He wanted to start tidying himself so that this place was semi-livable by the time Squall exited the shower. He wanted, more than anything, to snatch that cigarette from his lips and crush the still lit tip into his forearm until he begged for mercy and promised to never touch the vile things again.

That's what Quistis and Zell would have wanted to do. It's what they had probably started to do. He could guess where it went downhill after that. Squall would be uncooperative/downright resistant, they'd push him, he'd push back with biting words, all too honest observations and callousness that would eventually lead them to give up and leave, possibly while swallowing tears. At least in Zell's case.

There was no point in repeating their past mistakes. Why ruin this beautiful day? So instead, Irvine casually walked over while removing his long leather duster, letting it drop to the floor in his wake as he took a seat on the overstuffed chair next to Squall, pulling the pack and lighter combo toward him over the coffee table as he did so. It had been 2 years since he last touched a cigarette. Everyone smoked in Galbadia, it was just something he grew up with. But Balamb's and especially Selphie's disdain of the habit had quickly influenced him to give it up.

However, desperate times clearly called for desperate measures - relieving him of any potential pangs of guilt as he lit one up and leaned back into the pillows.

It was even better than he remembered.

The silky caress of the smoke passing his lips honestly made him ponder why the heck he ever gave it up in the first place. Every SeeD needed a vice to take the edge off. That was common knowledge. Some had smoking, some had sex, some had hot dogs and some liked to kill things. Squall had simply chosen the most easy and viable option for his current situation. No one could criticize him for that.

They sat in silence for several minutes, stubbing one out and then immediately lighting up another. From the looks of the plate Squall had been using as an ash tray, this is what he had been doing all night.

It was far from healthy, but at least it wasn't hurting anyone. Anyone but himself of course. And Irvine knew very well that there was no need in pointing that out.

"I won't be like this forever," Squall stated quietly once Irvine was mid way through his second. The cowboy chanced a glance at him from over armrest of his stuffed chair, but the Commander's expression was hidden by an arm slung across his eyes. So he slunk back further into his seat and concentrated instead on the glow of his cigarette.

"I know," he replied equally quietly after a couple of beats, taking a moment to form rings of smoke through his lips. "If anyone thought that, you'd be long since fired. Or euthanized."

"Ha. True. Mercy kill."

"Yeah…"

Another cigarette, another ten, twenty minutes. Neither of them could tell anymore. Irvine had eventually come up with a new name for Squall's apartment: _'the place where sense of time and responsibility come to die'._ A fact that was reinforced when, after dozing off for a few seconds, Irvine woke to find a cold glass of amber liquid in his hand.

He scrutinized it for a few seconds, shaking it slightly to make the ice tinkle pleasantly as he rubbed the sweaty leather from his cheek and sat upright.

"Squall?..." he asked dozily, his eyes still barely adjusted to the low light. "What is this?"

"…What do you think?"

He gave it sniff, hoping against all hope that sweet apple would reach his nostrils. Alas, whatever was in that glass was strong enough to burn his nasal passages and make him instantly light headed.

Apparently, Squall had picked up more than one vice during this bizarre phase.

"Isn't it like…ten am?"

"Does it matter?"

Irvine sighed while considering the liquid, a definite cooling temptation, noting with displeasure that Squall's glass was twice as full and straight up. He was taking long, thick gulps in between his puffs of smoke, barely reacting to what was surely an intense burn – proving that this was far from the first time he'd consumed this beverage lately.

If he was trying to freak him out, it was most definitely working. But that in no way meant he was going to give in and start the ball rolling of attempting to intervene, inevitably failing and then ending up getting hurt and abandoning the mission.

Squall needed to talk to someone. Whether he wanted to or not. And to someone who would do more listening and minimal, preferably no, scolding. Someone who knew very well that every once in a while, you had to let loose. Otherwise you'd explode into slovenly, psychotic mess. As seen presently in exhibit A.

So instead of pointing out the obvious idiocy of their actions, he drank. Thanking Hyne that at the very least he had no pressing commitments. Alcohol consumption and retention had never been one of his strong points.

"_Dammmmnnn_…." Irvine hissed through his teeth as he took his first big gulp, oblivious to the fact that a few feet away, for the first time in what felt like ages…Squall was smiling.

* * *

Rinoa stared at the keyboard.

The keyboard stared back.

At least, it _seemed_ as if it were staring back.

If you squinted enough the black keys merged to become dark eyes among a long row of white teeth. It also almost seemed to be laughing at her.

Yes. It was most definitely laughing at her.

Calling her talentless. Stating how pathetic it was that her imagination was dried up after only two ballads that Selphie had rejected anyway as 'too sappy'. Reminding her of how unlike her mother she really was.

Stupid, ungrateful, son-of-a…

Compulsively, her fists slammed down onto the thing's face, the brash noise it created finally pulling her out of her delusions.

"Time for a break I think," she told the empty, cramped space, pushing against the frame to roll away from the now sinister object. Spinning in her swivel chair, she surveyed the chaos that had once been her dorm room and tried to find something, anything that could be considered a relaxing activity. Alas, playing the piano had once been her only relaxing activity. Beyond that, there was only sleeping. And she had already had a good ten hours today. Ten attempted hours at least.

She risked a glance at the calendar tacked up beside the bed, one of the many decorations among photos and posters she had littered her walls with as a collage project a few sleepless nights ago. July 21st it read, angry red Xs marking off the previous days as they ever so slowly faded from existence.

Three weeks. Three weeks out of a potential nine years, and she was already bored out of her mind. Miserable as ever and, of course, restless. It felt like time was standing still all over again, Ultimecia's sick little joke in the afterlife.

"Ugh…" the sorceress leaned her head back over the edge of the chair while bringing her long hair forward to fall over her face. She knew the lack of an official, full-time job wasn't really what was bugging her. Honestly, she had once dreamed of having the excuse to do nothing more but sit back and write music. And _this_ music that was meant to play at the anniversary ball in a little over a month (should Selphie ever accept anything) and would be heard around the world. It was more than any struggling artist could hope for. Imagine the doors that could open if it was well received? If it was loved!?

The sad thing was, in order for music to be loved, it had to be good. And, not to mention, it had to exist.

Rinoa titled her chin to bring the laughing keyboard back into her sight through the gaps in her hair. Her heart fell as she realized, for the first time in her life, how much she really didn't want to play. Especially if the only lyrics and notes available in her mind were tales of heartbreak or self-pity set to tired, overly-cheesy melodies.

Her eyes darted to the calendar once again. They widened, then narrowed, unblinking to the point of tears. Yet, despite all her concentration, the month title did not magically change. So far her "special" talents as an all-powerful triple sorceress proved only useful in refuting men.

On that note Rinoa jumped up, shooting the chair away from beneath her where it rolled the four feet until it hit the bed frame. With a red pen from her desk in hand she strutted to the calendar and began scribbling in dates. Any dates. Goals to last her till at least the end of this year.

Finish songs by the end of July, oversee band practices every third day, help reorganize library the week of the 10th of August, the ball itself on the 27th which was already scrawled in bright pink glitter ink by Selphie. But, before that, there was something else…something important…

Her hand hovered above the offending date, debating whether it was worth wasting ink on a reminder. The 23rd…

Despite all attempts not to think of him, to not even think his name, the date could not be ignored. It was one of the few little personal facts he had so "generously" offered to her last year. His birthday, August 23rd. He'd be nineteen. And no one except, inexplicably, President Laguna would know. It would be the last year of teenage-hood for a man who had never really had the chance to be either a teenager or even a child. He deserved something. Anything. Even if just her plain acknowledgment.

This assertion caused her hand, having somehow taken on a mind of its own, to slowly begin writing within the boundaries of the tiny square. Before she knew it, in her best calligraphy, the simple title "Squall's Birthday" was the date's bright and bold heading. Only four weeks away. Four weeks before having any true intention of seeking him out…

With a sigh of self-pity, which would have worked well in her most recently melody, Rinoa leaned her forehead against the calendar's kitten graphic. Silently wondering if she could indeed last that long.

Yes, it had been almost a month since she had quit as his assistant. But believe it or not, the majority of that time had been relatively easy. She had her music, she had her meetings, she had her check-ups, she had her meals with the gang. She had more than enough to keep her busy, confident and, for the most part, a somewhat twisted version of 'happy'. Quistis and Selphie had worked hard to see to that, to her luck and appreciation.

And she did honestly look forward to her future as Publicity consult to all the Gardens, even if the music portion fell through and she needed to outsource. It was such a romantic job; travelling the world, organizing and participating in the most glamorous of events, being allowed **out** and therefore being allowed to, finally, shop and buy her own dresses! She couldn't have even fathomed a more comfortable future, especially after being cursed with these powers and the normal life experiences they automatically voided. It was more than generous of the Council to allow this. It was a miracle. It was dream. Or, at least, it would be…if…

Rinoa's head popped up to regard the calendar once again, her eyes slowly focusing on the date only a mere two days from now. She had almost forgotten.

The video conference Council meeting was just a formality, Quistis had assured her. The individual members had all already agreed to the terms of the new & improved Angelica Policy. This was just a chance for them to officially give her the unanimous nod of consent, with each other as witnesses, before the papers could be legitimately drawn up and be ready to sign by the time of the ball. But that wasn't why the date was terrifying to her. Even though it was quite a terrifying concept.

That meeting was to be the cut off point for Squall making his choice: whether he took the promotion to Captain and joined her on her tour or remained still and safe, only having to deal with her 3 months out of the year, as Balamb's Commander.

Quistis had notified him a few days ago of the reformed restrictions and its ensuing ultimatum. She knew he would be less than happy with the idea of her putting even one toe beyond the borders of this building without him being by her side. But she also knew how much he hated change, and how long it had taken him to finally grow comfortable within these specific walls, with these specific people. And though she had expected him to be shocked, expected him to be confused, expected him to break down her door and insist that they stay put and deal with it, what she hadn't expect was this:

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The suspense of his impending decision was killing her. Almost literally.

For though it had been nearly a month since they'd worked together, it had in fact now been only three days, eight hours and around twelve minutes since she last 'felt' him. That was when this torture had begun. And by 'felt', that by no means implied any physical or even verbal contact. Only now had she realized that they had never gone so long without connecting in some simple, silly form. Even if it was only a mere glance while passing in the hallway, or an echoing sigh from across the cafeteria that she knew could only be heard in her head. There was always something. They didn't need words to communicate anymore.

All those tiny hints, shredded thought fragments or shared shivers of longing…she knew he missed her physical company, her voice, her face, as desperately as she missed his. It was enough to feel it, seeing as it could never be said or acted upon.

And now, after only a pitiful three days, eight hours and around thirteen minutes, her body was literally protesting his absence.

He had stopped going to the cafeteria. He worked from his suite computer, in a wing of the dorms she didn't have access to, and he didn't ever sign onto the chat network. No one had seen or heard from him since the day of Quistis' disclosure. Well, no one that she had regular contact with anyway. Not even Selphie, despite her crafty attempts to trick him into opening his door, the most notorious of which involved a smoke bomb, the fire alarm and the evacuation of the entire complex. Except for the one man who knew, somehow, that it was all a ruse. He didn't bother. He was just too damn smart for that.

Rinoa felt her face begin to fold into a grimace as she reaffirmed the conclusion that he was avoiding her. Most probably because, after weeks of practice, she could now perfectly read his emotions and would know his decision the moment he came within thirty feet. Or, equally likely, he was torturing her for being in cahoots with Quistis.

Or maybe this was all a test to somehow prove the extremely bizarre, unnatural and _dangerous_ source of their connection, which was so far proving to be dead on. Kadowaki herself had never before heard of what had been happening to her these past few weeks, in any both natural and supernatural cases. And it had only become that much worse the longer he insisted on evading contact.

Her only solace was that whatever was happening, Squall must be feeling some version of it too. But 'not unless strictly necessary' was the term of their parting agreement. And she could last a few more days, as long as she didn't dare venture out and risk it happening in the hallway in front of students. Not unless strictly necessary…

_Hyne I miss him…_

She couldn't help but admit it, her eyesight suddenly blurred in a fruitless struggle to contain tears. Her fingers brushed against the square of August 23rd and she felt as if her heart was being squeezed in a vice. The date was the only contribution he had ever really, freely given to prune their relationship. It was a rather pathetic substitute for the love letters, flowers and chocolates she had always imagined her great love would shower upon her. Even the ring of his that she wore had been obtained through a trick. Would it even be resting on her neck now if Zell had failed in stealing it?

Rinoa's grimace deepened at that thought. Every second that passed, she was starting to consider that maybe he was right about them. It wasn't normal to adore a man so much that treated her so callously. It started to make sense that they had become friends of necessity during the war and that these feelings, this _sick_ obsession, were simply a spell.

_He's my everything, despite the fact that he's done nothing._ She noted in a sudden panic._ He's oxygen. I need him._

His smile and his scowl. His eyes and even his fingernails. His hands and his hair. His…

His…

She gasped suddenly, her hands reaching to push against the wall on either side of her head.

She had dared to think of him a smidgeon too long and it was triggered. Even through clenched eyes the glow burned her retinas, her skin setting itself aflame yet again. It wasn't just her hands anymore. It was her entire body.

_Not unless strictly necessary…_

It was starting to feel pretty damn necessary.

"_Squall_…"

The name escaped her lips in a quiet moan as her mind involuntarily sought him out, searching with some kind of ailing desperation for his consciousness to confirm that he was nearby.

He was. She felt him somewhere in the building, though very weakly. A small smile grew on her lips followed by an over enthused giggle of relief.

On a normal day, he'd be in the cafeteria by now as he always was. Sipping his tea while taking in small, half teaspoons of dark chocolate pudding every couple of seconds. She remembered complaining once that it took longer for him to consume that specific dessert than all his other meals of the day combined. He had ignored her, as usual, but she liked to imagine there was some sort of romantic reason for it. Like, one of his precious few memories of childhood being relived. Or, perhaps, that he merely relished the contrast of the flavors – a bitter sweetness to be savored and properly appreciated.

On that note, her temperature resumed its steady climb. There was no point in trying to suppress it, she had learnt soon enough. As inconvenient as these episodes were, they were at least relieving. And she was alone here, struggling to come up with a simultaneously "relaxing" and "distracting" activity. There was nothing more distracting than this.

She began to remember/imagine him then; his new hair sticking up at all angles as it usually did, looking both messy yet faultless, both enticing yet forbidden. His freshly pressed uniform would be completely buttoned up, despite the month's heat, and fitted perfectly onto his perfect soldier's figure. If she were sitting across from him now, as she usually did, his perfectly blue eyes would be glancing up at her every once in while, usually in a cringe or a sigh in response to something snippy she said.

He'd eventually unfold the paper in an attempt to ignore her; she'd whip a carrot stick at him over the edge. He'd spill his tea as a result; she'd fall over laughing. He'd glare and mumble a warning, usually involving the nearby seated Nida; she'd call his bluff. He'd make to get up; she'd wield her knife as alternate arsenal. He'd smirk in triumph; her heart would contract in delight.

It was as it always was and would never be again. All in her head.

The memory shifted backward, to a certain balcony, to a certain celebration. It was a memory yes, but her imagination altered it. They were no longer two shy seventeen-year-olds, desperately trying to feel alive after months of being put on the brink of death, too exhausted and scared of missing a second of life to even change out of their travelling garb. This time, they were as they were now. Professionals. She in her clean, grey suit to match his pressed uniform. They were shaking hands, cordially, platonically, apparently in the midst of making a deal.

Then he'd kiss her. The vision's event began the same as she had actually experienced it. Timid and slow, yet electric. A memory and yet still she felt it now, her heart beat racing despite standing perfectly still. But while the original scene had ended with the rather rude interruption of manic giggling followed by a chase for a dead video camera, this _new _Rinoa, the one who knew what it would lead to if she dared let him wander off and speak to Edea, didn't give him the chance.

This informed Rinoa, this _desperate_ Rinoa, would have pulled him back into her arms the second his head began to turn. She'd make him instantly forget about the potential embarrassing headlines of Selphie's blog and instead concentrate on the moment, on the vibrations. The subsequent whisper that he should join her in her room would not be a stuttered suggestion. It would be a command.

The sorceress smirked at the thought, wondering how indeed the timid Commander would have reacted. It would have been so easy. If only she had been more forceful, less nervous. Less afraid of handling his delicate emotions and more concerned with the moment and her own needs. He had said it himself:

_If you wanted me that badly, I'd stay. I'd never leave this room with you. But you haven't asked. You're too scared to ask._

"Squall…" his name escaped her lips yet again as the sensations intensified. The glow burned brighter, her breathing hitched. She hated this. Hated it so much. No matter how good it felt.

It hurt even more to remember, to know, that if she'd call him, he'd come. If she asked him to stay, he would. He would make sure she'd never feel like this again. It would be so easy just to…

A knock at the door interrupted any further consideration. "Rinoa?"

With a strangled pant, she forced her eyes open and waited for focus to gradually return. The world was still a spinning halo of colors, the most prominent being the azure shade of his eyes. She felt…intoxicated. But not in the good way. In the delirious-and-on-the-brink-of-spewing-your-guts-out way.

_We're not normal. Nothing about us is normal. _

No shit.

With a frantic deep breath, she watched with wide and panicked eyes as the kitten calendar graphic beneath her fingers crackled and burned, curling up into ashes and filling the room with acrid smoke.

It was true. Hyne damn him, he was right. About everything.

This wasn't normal.

Another knock. "Rinoa? Are you okay?"

"Just a sec Nida!" It was easy to make her voice sound clear and strong. Squall's confession had at least encouraged her to practice the art of a constant façade. Though she had failed in avoiding Kadowaki's interrogation about these episodes, she had at least managed to successfully imply that it wasn't dangerous.

No one had to know that as she exploded, so did other things.

With what little amount of concentration she had available, Rinoa managed to pull her flaming fingers away from the wall, giggling in manic relief as she noted that only the poster paper and not the plaster itself had been singed. Thank goodness. It would have been hard to explain away hand shaped burn marks.

"Rinny **come on!** I gotta pee!" came another, higher voice from the other side of the door.

Selphie too. Oh Hyne.

The ensuing panic was thankfully at a high enough level to disperse the burning, relinquishing control over her motor skills. Nida would be coming to discuss the classical orchestra pieces for what they dubbed as the 'lame' part of the ball; a certainly long and boring conversation but nothing to get hyped up about. But Selphie…Selphie would be demanding updates on her original music progress. And she hadn't written a single note all morning.

In that instant, she was back. The flames dissolved into her flesh, taking the colored vision with them and her temperature fell back to its now normal fevered state. She then sprang to the window sill and yanked it open, desperately fanning the smoke outside with the aid of her pillow.

"Sorry guys!" she called out, knowing that it would take more than a few seconds to completely cover up the incident. Luckily, she has already developed a reputation for being especially bad with fire. That and any other potentially lethal item, element or object. "I had a bit of an accident!"

She jettisoned herself into her bathroom and gathered the few scented candles from the counter top. They were a silly gift from Nida who was constantly trying to convert her to the newly popularized forms of Shumian meditation, deeming it to be the solution to all problems. Somehow, she considered that sitting and breathing for hours on end would not be very helpful in her case. Or in anyone's case.

After placing them on the back edge of her nightstand, a little too close to the wall, she let out a breath of relief as she noted the path of ruined posters almost perfectly matched their positioning.

When the door finally opened for the two SeeDs, neither of them could suppress the automatic cringe that appeared on their faces. Rinoa tried not to take offense. She hadn't had a chance to look in the mirror yet but experience over the last few days of these episodes reminded her that she probably looked like a bombing victim. Covered in a high-gloss sheen of sweat and charcoal smudges.

"What the heck have you been doing?" Selphie asked through a grimace. "Digging a secret escape route to Dollet?"

"Ha. Ha." Rinoa muttered sarcastically while flipping her dark, damp bang out of her eyes. "If you'd given me some warning I would have showered. As it is, you've caught me in the middle of my…" she struggled to come up with something, anything to excuse her state of being sweat soaked in an overly air conditioned dorm with only four square feet of free floor space. "My midday _reflections,_" she excused at last, smiling in what she hoped looked like a 'relaxed' manner.

"Reflections? As in the Shumian flexibility and sense clearing training?" repeated Nida, her new assistant with the Festival entertainment and avid fan of such exercise, rather skeptically. He took a moment to scan her slowly from head to toe; a gesture which would have made her defensively violent a few weeks ago, she now accepted with lighthearted annoyance. "Since when do you practice? I thought you hated that_ '_pointless meditation crap'? And I quote."

"Yeah, well," Rinoa giggled awkwardly while rubbing the back of her neck, now finding no need to avoid showcasing the all too real emotions of embarrassment and ineptness. "I've since discovered that the so-called sport encompasses the mere ability to stand still in odd positions and breathe. It's the only physical activity I've ever excelled at. And it is also the most popular pastime for the bored and unemployed: a club I have most recently joined."

"Unemployed? Bored?" Selphie repeated in that high pitched panicked tone of hers while pushing her way past Rinoa and into the dorm room. "You have at least two songs to give me by the end of the week missy. How the heckers can you be bored with that?"

"I gave you two songs already!" Rinoa reminded her, watching helplessly as Nida followed suit into the room, carefully picking his way through the mounds of stuff that littered the floor. "You said nothing about having to have two songs you LIKED ready by the end of the week."

"Rinoa, stop making jokes!" the petite girl fell back onto the cot with a head on her forehand as if about to faint. "This is serious! This festival is gonna be the most important day of my life! It has to be perfect!"

"Hyne forbid she ever gets married," Nida whispered toward the hostess with a smirk. She mirrored it, hoping against all hope that it appeared natural. "But, as for _actual_ important things, I need you to go over these new…" he paused then, mid-flip through a booklet of music samples, head titled downwards as he surveyed the still slightly smoldering items above the nightstand.

"What happened here?" came the more than expected question after a few seconds examination, and yet still the guilt-ridden sorceress felt her heart leap into her throat.

She attempted what she thought was a nonchalant shrug, and yet her eyes still wandered off in a different direction with obvious avoidance. "Candles apparently enhance the experience," was her plain yet weak explanation. "Who knew paper was so flammable, heh?"

It was such a stupid excuse. But the truth was even more preposterous. Luckily, Nida and Selphie showed no signs of incredulity before the former was tutting in displeasure and the latter burst into a fit of giggles.

Yet again, klutz reputation to the rescue.

"You **have** to be more careful Rinoa!" he insisted while pulling down the charred images to inspect the wall beneath. "Neither Selphie nor I can afford to have you kill yourself until the curtains close on Festival night. After that do whatever the hell you want."

Rinoa lips pressed together in anger. He was probably just lashing out because she had missed lunch with him yet again. Even though she had never confirmed her presence. Even though she thought the last three days spent restricted to her dorm had made it obvious enough that she wasn't coming.

"Glad to know you're so concerned for my well being!" she growled sarcastically before giving him a light kick in the shin as punishment. Also, perhaps, the vent some of the unreleased frustration.

She may have underestimated herself by a little too much however, since her intended 'little tap' sent the senior SeeD sprawling onto the cot next to Selphie, muttering through a loud wince a long string of expletives.

Rinoa's hands flew to her mouth in genuine shock at his reaction.

She had forgotten, through the convenience of wishful ignorance, of the yet another "_neat"_ side effect that had developed over the past few days: her excessive and sudden increase in strength. "Oh crap. Nida, I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean-"

"What the **hell** Rinoa?!" he righted himself, throwing the calendar remains onto Selphie's lap before scrambling to pull up his pant leg and inspect the pale skin beneath. "That better not leave a bruise! You know I have an engagement tonight. Just because you're alone doesn't mean you have to sabotage the rest of us."

"Oooowww. Now _that's_ a real burn." Selphie commented with a catty smirk. One which instantly faded the moment she met eyes with Rinoa.

The change from concern to fury was instant. Slowly, maliciously, the sorceresses' hands fell from her face and folded over her chest, bending low so as to be eye to eye with her so-called helper.

He didn't apologize. He didn't even blink. He was one of the very few people in Garden who could hold her dark glare without an ounce of apprehension. It was a quality that she had yet to decide whether she loved or hated in him. Right now, hate was winning.

"An engagement where you expect to be without pants isn't an engagement," she explained slowly, as if to an infant. "It's called being a sl-"

"Children!" Selphie interrupted loudly, sitting up and spreading her arms out as a barrier between then. "We have a lot of work to do! It's T-minus a mere 37 days before the Festival and we have nothing except the waltz. The freakin _Waltz_ guys! We have to do better. We-"

The director's rambling fell among the background noise as Rinoa and Nida continued to stare each other down. It was too dangerous for words what with Selphie on a tirade and each of them still too angry to say anything pertinent. And so there they remained, with equally furrowed brows and pursed lips. Each waiting for the other one to break.

For three weeks now they had been working together, two weeks since he 'officially' joined the festival committee per her suggestion/pleading. Despite his issues with Selphie on the piloting front, he did it. And ever since then, what had begun as a comfortable camaraderie had been slowly degrading into a bickering antagonism.

He wanted experimental, upbeat music. She wanted classical ballads.

He wanted to meet every day and share their findings. She wanted to work solo on their individual tasks.

He didn't take things seriously enough. She took things way too seriously.

He wanted to talk, get to know her, be _real _friends. And she wanted nothing more lately than to stay alone in her room, in the dark and fall asleep, whimpering in self pity.

Rinoa had her reasons for this, obviously. And most people were careful enough with her still very delicate emotions to let her be. But not Nida. He was an advocate of wearing your heart on your sleeve, of the acceptance and release of that which harangues you and, most indelibly, of going after and getting what you want. It was why her reclusion due to a certain, notoriously heartless commanding officer (he assumed, though she never admitted it) bothered him so. Staying indoors, moping and being generally unproductive went against every principle he believed in. And so, in his mind at least, the solution to all these issues was a constant and aggressively verbal kick in the ass.

Needless to say, as demonstrated by the present situation, his usual methods seemed to be failing. Terribly.

Though their relationship was still too fresh to know for sure, he was beginning to learn that Rinoa Heartilly may very well be the epitome of stubbornness. And if living with five sisters taught him anything, it's that women are more easily satiated with humility than by reason. It was why he usually avoided their company.

"I'm sorr-," he mumbled at last, but paused with a start as he saw and heard the exact same words fall out of her lips at the exact same time.

Both their eyes widened, then crinkled at the corners with the hint of a smile. Soon enough, the tension was released from their shoulders and giggles of relief escaped both their lips simultaneously.

And just like that. It was over.

If only it could always be so beautifully simple.

"HELLO??!!" came the painfully loud voice of their director, breaking the attempted comfortable silence between them. "Have you two been listening to one word I've been saying?"

"Yeah Selph. Less talkie, more workie," he casually held out his hand to Rinoa for help off the cot. It shocked her to note how swiftly and eagerly she moved in, her sweaty fingers desperately grasping his pleasantly cool ones and pulling him easily upward. "Ballads for the Council Dinner, Classical Dance, original songs by Friday for band practice. Yadda yadda. Rin and I can handle it. Right Rin? "

The sorceress was too busy staring at their linked hands to notice anything else.

It was…weird. For days she had been in such a frantic fevered state and yet, at the touch of his hands, she suddenly felt…cooler. Calmer. Relaxed. Comfortable. So many adjectives for standard sensations that she hadn't felt in such a very, very long time.

It was nearly euphoric.

But it was also terrifying.

"Rin?" he tried again, ducking his head in an attempt to catch her eyes. "You alive in there? You're not doing much to help prove my point of our competence…"

"Oh Hyne," Selphie began nervously fanning herself with the charred remains of the calendar. "She's gone catatonic. I knew it. We're screwed. Everything is-"

"I'm fine," Rinoa interrupted with a laugh, finally having managed to pull herself out of the trance by violently ripping her fingers free of Nida's. With everything else going on, she hadn't the brain capacity at the moment to worry about what the hell that meant. "Spaced out there for a sec. But yes. The songs will be ready by Friday."

"And they won't be featured among the others in 'a soundtrack to slit your wrists to', right? Cause those last ones…"

"They'll be as chipper as you are Selphie. I promise."

"Is that a joke?"

"Yes Selphie."

"Good. So by Friday right?"

Rinoa couldn't help the annoyed sigh that escaped her lips. "Friday. Yes. A million times, yes. If you'd just leave me to it, I'd be able to get them to you that much fast-."

"**SWEET SHIVA**!?" Selphie's shrill voice interjected, suddenly and passionately ripping apart the kitten graphic in her hands. Nida and Rinoa forcibly took a jump back at her exclamation, both eyeing each other with obvious worry.

Though they had figured it was only a matter of time before the petite girl crumbled under the pressure, why did it have to be now, under their watch?

"**Siren, Ifrit and Hell Fire on a cracker, I can't believe it!"**

"Selphie sweetie? Are you okay?" Rinoa asked timidly, her eyes flicking between the two colleagues, silently begging for input but receiving none. Men were of no help. "I promised didn't I? You'll have the songs. Everything will be _perfect_, okay? I swear. There's no need to-"

"I know. Whatever. I don't care." Selphie casually waved her attempts at soothing away, all her focus concentrated on some scrap of singed paper between her fingers. "I can't believe it. Finally! Mmmmmuah!" she gave the fragment she held a wet and sloppy kissed followed immediately by spitting out bits of charcoal.

"I _knew_ he told you. He must have told you. I should have beat it out of you last year." She let out her loud trademark giggle while shuffling to make room on the cot.

"Who told me what?" Rinoa asked, taking a seat and struggling to get a look at the scrap that had somehow captivated her attention. "What is that?" She reached for it but Selphie was faster, catapulting herself up and into a spin that left her aggressor's swipe to come up with nothing but air.

"Ha Ha! Too slow."

"Hey, these here are my charred remains and I have the right to see what you've stolen."

"No way! What if we hadn't knocked when we did? You still be stuck in Spindly Lotus Dog pose or whatever while all of Garden burnt down. I deserve this! It's my booty"

"Since when has Garden applied the rules of piracy?"

"Ladies, please," Nida, still in tense mode, took a step between them. Trying to emit some semblance of authority. "Writing _good_ music is harder than you both think. Rinoa and I have a lot of preparation to-"

"Yes. You guys do have a lot to do. Good. Cause missy here has her work cut out for her now. This years' festival has just been upgraded."

"Upgraded?" both residents questioned in unison.

"Yes. Upgraded. For what was once just the Garden Festival is now the Victory Celebration Ball. And was just the Victory Celebration has now also become the entertainment night for the fleet of white SeeDs moored in Balamb while reloading supplies…"

"What?" Nida's jaw dropped at this. "Selphie there is no way we can fit that many people into-"

"And what was once just the Garden Festival _slash_ Victory Celebration _slash_ White SeeD Welcome to Dry Land _slash_ Extravaganza of the decade, is now also gonna be…"

She finally flipped over the singed strip of paper between her fingers, holding it up for the two others to see.

Rinoa's heart fell down into her stomach.

"Hell. No." she responded in the strictest tone she could muster.

"Hell yes!" Selphie rebutted, already nodding like a bobble head on speed.

"Why the hell would you write that down?" Nida chastised in an angry hiss. "He'll kill you!"

"He'll kill everyone! Selphie, you **cannot** do this."

"This year's Ball is gonna be the biggest, most bad-ass in Garden History. The Festival _slash_ Victory Celebration _slash_ Welcome White SeeDs _slash_ Happy-"

"Don't even say it!"

"- _slash_ Happy Birthday Commander Fiesta Booyah Blowout!!!! Woohoo!"

The singed white paper that Selphie was so excited about, the one scrap that had somehow survived the attack. It was that same little black square she had so lovingly scribbled on not even ten minutes prior. An unnecessary reminder, a goal that she had just HAD to make physical in some way.

August 23rd. Squall's Birthday.

He was definitely going to kill her.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hey everybody. Wow, I'm so glad to finally have this out. Believe it or not I've been writing this in pieces, about 30 minutes a week, for the past 4 months. Add in one sleepless night cause it's too damn hot in Montreal (it's currently 4:30 am) and voila! A chapter!

There are more questions now, yes. But also more intrigue. I hope I was vague and yet implicative enough about what Rinoa's "illness" now is. If you need it spelled out for you then ask so in your review :P. But if you re-read last chapter's intro with Rinoa and Kadowaki, it's pretty obvious in coherence to the events described here.

One last note: I know making Squall a smoker has kinda become a cliché on this site. But that's because it just so perfectly fits with his character type, let alone my specific situation for him where he's super frustrated and unable to train. Plus, his actions are meant to make the readers roll their eyes and be annoyed with him. Hope I succeeded.

Till next chapter! You know the drill: more reviews = faster updates. Thanks!


	13. War

"_The easiest period in a crisis situation is actually __the battle__ itself. _

_The most difficult is the period of indecision -- whether to fight or run away. _

_And the most dangerous period is the aftermath. _

_It is then, with all his resources spent and his guard down, that an individual must watch out for dulled reactions and faulty judgment."_

**-- Richard M. Nixon **

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 13: …_War_ …

Irvine had just heard the funniest thing he had ever heard in his life.

And it was from the most unexpected of sources: the Balamb evening news, a report on the new crosswalk painted at the main intersection leading to the train station.

It had started out generic enough. Some images of the site, some sound bytes of the mayor describing how great he was for having come up with the idea. But then they brought on a small child, rosy cheeked and freckled, to be interviewed. He had been asked whether he now felt safer getting around town. To which the child replied…

"**Holy shi-**…Hahahaha!…Man! Squall? Ha ha! Did-did you he…hear that?" he looked over his shoulder towards his companion, still comfortably sprawled on the couch with his never empty glass of what he dubbed 'happy juice' now balanced precariously on his chest. His eyes flittered closed upon regaining his guests' attention, forehead wrinkled in the same grimace it had held for the past several hours.

Though Irvine had long since had to strip down to only his vest and rolled up jeans in order to deal with the stifling smog of the suite, Squall had actually added a layer at some point during the evening. With a dark grey hooded sweatshirt and matching drawstring pants, not to mention hair that obviously hadn't been washed in days and a facial texture that was beginning to resemble that of a cactuar, it was hard to imagine that this man had ever had any real job let alone a position of power.

But Irvine refused to succumb to the pity which would inevitably lead to a redundant life-makeover attempt. He had lasted too long with not one biting comment to be kicked out now. And the good news was, if Squall was even half as drunk as he was (which he had to be…), then he was about T-minus three sips from spilling his heart out and ending the night with a tearful and earnest '_I luv you man!_'.

They just needed the right catalyst. An icebreaker of sorts. Something to 'naturally' launch into the subject of this recent self-destructive phase and what the hell he intended to do about it. For there was only so long his colleagues could ignore this obvious ineptitude. Especially with the World Council video conference being so close…in two days to be exact. Two days till he had to officially decide whether he wanted to tour the Gardens with Rinoa or stay put as Balamb's Commander. Two days till he was to be put up on screens all across the globe to announce his verdict. Ideally, while neither intoxicated nor looking like a homeless person.

"Squall…" the hilarious crosswalk child forgotten; Irvine slowly picked his way on all fours through the litter back towards the couch. Abilities such as 'standing' and 'walking' seemed to be slightly beyond his skills-set at the moment. But before 'talking' and 'consciousness' were also to be added to that list, he was determined to get at least one assertion out of the deflated Commander. Even if that assertion included promising to never leave that couch ever again. At least it would be a goal to work with.

Irvine somehow managed to hit head only an impressive two times on the coffee table as he shifted around it and was eventually able to flop his upper half onto the couch surface, jostling and spilling his friend's drink as he did so. The sudden soaking of his only semi-clean t-shirt did little to upset Squall, as he acknowledged the intrusion merely by peeking one eye open and then promptly shutting it, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Oh shhhhiii…so-sorry…damn…" On impulse, knowing how precious the alcohol was, Irvine reached for the first thing he could find – an old sock – to mop it up with, non-too gently patting the Commander's chest as he did so. At this, finally, Squall had no choice but to react, especially since the cowboy's uncharacteristically horrid aim was guiding his rather violent cleansing ritual a little too close to his injury.

"Okay Irvine. Thanks. I'm clean. I got it." Before any more damage could be done, Squall expertly caught his wrist, pried the makeshift cloth from his hands, bunched it up, and tossed it in a perfect arc across the room and into the trash.

Irvine could only stare at him with open mouthed shock after that little display of proficiency. He could hardly tell where his nose was and here his 'buddy' was making three point shots on the first try.

"Howw…h-how are you not…" he paused his interrogation to let out a loud belch, the wind of which caught Squall candidly in the face. It took all his effort not gag or, worse, punch him in the jaw. "Like…gone? Me? I am com-complet-tely _gone_."

"It's simple really," he replied in an annoyingly steady tone, though his voice was still unusually gritty due to the constant smoke. Having lost his own stash and not looking forward to the pathetic limping journey back to the kitchen, Squall reached over to capture Irvine's glass from the coffee table and took yet another healthy sip. "You, obviously, have a liver the size of a pea, conveniently creating a pair set with your brain. To also note, I was still nursing my first tumbler while you are on your third."

"You…first? One? Seriously?" Irvine whipped his head sideways toward the kitchen, noting with a cringe how long it took him to focus on the still relatively full bottle resting on the counter top.

Cautiously, he turned back to face his host, trying to hide the guilt that was threatening to come bubbling to the surface and perhaps exit via his throat in the form of stomach contents. "I-I see…go-good for yous," he stated clumsily, desperately trying to keep eye contact and not fall over. "I-I just thought…"

"You thought I was _drowning my sorrows._ You thought I was so depressed with my life that I was trying to escape it by rendering myself inebriated to the point of being unable to form proper sentences. You think I'm sitting here now because I've given up. And you thought by joining me in acting irresponsible, you could somehow get into my head."

Irvine opened his mouth to say something, then shut it upon realizing that 'yes' probably wasn't the most clever of responses.

"Glad to know your opinion of me is so high." Not bothering to wait for the inevitable stuttered excuses, Squall decided that there had never been a better time to start moving. He had been hoping Irvine would either have gotten frustrated and left or at the very least passed out by now, but there weren't enough hours in the day to successfully evade all his supposed friends' attempted interventions. "The point is to be temporarily numb, not unintelligible for hours. In our line of work we can't afford such luxuries. I thought you'd know that."

While reaching behind his head for his crutch, Squall was somewhat elegantly able to swing his legs over Irvine's head and onto the floor. Before the cowboy could even process the fact that the man who he had just spent the last four hours considering to be a complete physical and mental invalid was really just a quieter and angrier version of his old self, Squall was already poised at the doorway – the package he had just delivered held tightly under his free arm.

"I have work to do. I'll be back in an hour," he stated with a new somewhat menacing quality added to his tone. "I expect you to be gone."

"Uhh. Yeah…Sure."

Irvine tried desperately to sort his muddled thoughts, wanting to get at least one helpful and/or inspiring attempt at a gesture in before they parted. But then he realized:

Squall was actually in the process of _leaving_ his apartment.

He was probably going to the cafeteria or the infirmary or even, perhaps, the office. He did say he had _work_ to do. Maybe his efforts hadn't been in vain after all! Maybe he had succeeded in inspiring the Commander simply by being a judgmental mooch.

_Your welcome Squall, _he thought sluggishly. Giggling as he wondered whether thoughts could be slurred.

The only downside was that Quistis, understandably, probably wouldn't want him anywhere near the administration office looking and smelling like he currently was. It would most definitely hurt his reputation, which was precarious enough as it is.

"Squall! Wait! You - arg!" he suddenly had to rub furiously at his forehead, the beginnings of what would surely be the worst headache of his life distracting him from being able to compose a functional sentence. "Work. No. You…you're on ick, I mean sick-"

"Being Commander isn't my job. It was never my real job. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than babysit pitiful rank A SeeDs that don't know how pace themselves…"

In a blink and the harsh sound of a slam, he was gone.

To his remaining guest, the world was still spinning and he was relatively certain that his head was about to explode. On the bright side, he honestly didn't care anymore what Squall did. In the midst of an emotional rut or not, the guy was still somewhat rational. If he wanted to terrorize cadets, who were they to stop him? He must have his reasons.

Like, maybe he just really, really likes it.

And so, Irvine waved him off with a smile, silently hoping he fell down a stairwell or, at the very least, one of his many victims decided to fight back for once.

In fact, on the even brighter side, something in his gut was telling him a victim was about to retaliate right about now…

When Irvine stumbled out of the suite ten minutes later, wiping his lips of any spare traces of bile, he sincerely hoped Squall **didn't** have access to a decent upholstery cleaner.

* * *

"And that, I'm happy to say my dear, is that!"

Nida triumphantly closed his note book with a jovial flick of his wrist, letting loose a deep breath of relief as he did so.

Rinoa follow suit from where she sat at her desk after positioning the last placeholder in a book of song samples. It may have taken a little over fourteen hours, but the music for the first third of Selphie's multi-celebration ball had finally been selected, after ensuing that they had a proper sampling from each genre and culture as well as the instruments and musicians available to cover some of the more original compositions. Finding a master _Sh*u~lia_ player for the traditional Trabian shuffle was more trouble than she ever cared to put into a two minute song that was basically three notes repeated.

But at least now she had a solid contact, one which would make this portion of the preparations that much easier when she attempted event planning for similar functions in the other Gardens.

"Are you sure we've covered every country?" Rinoa couldn't help but ask, flipping through the largest of the piled sheet music books that covered almost every surface. "You sure there won't be a president from some one kilometer square island that'll take great offense because I didn't include his village's customary rock tapping dance, or whatever?"

"The set list is perfect Rinoa. Seriously. We should move on to-"

"No. No, it couldn't have been that easy." Despite the attempted finalizing gesture of closing the notebook, Rinoa rolled her chair across the floor to the cot Nida was occupying and snatched it from his lap. The pilot SeeD could do nothing more but roll his eyes and fall back into the pillows, mentally preparing himself for this to go on for at least another hour or two.

"Rinooaaaa, pleasseeee," he whined sharply while rubbing his hands down his face. "We've been over everything six times. You're the first person who has ever bothered to include a mix of ethnic melodies in addition to the classics. I'm pretty sure everybody there will be kissing you feet in praise. They may even make you queen!"

"Your sarcasm is only helping to confirm my fears that it's far from perfect." Her eyes scanned down the list for what was surely the millionth time that night, while in her other hand she brought up the ball guest list, matching each country of origin from both columns, checking them off as she went.

She let out a long breath of relief as it was confirmed, yet again, that everything was settled. The diplomats would be arriving to an elegant black tie affair complete with a sixteen piece orchestra in addition to appearances by those hired specialists with their more unconventional instruments. These songs would be played during the dinner reception and would be followed by more dance-inspiring classical numbers. But the icingon the cake, the event she most looked forward to, was a special orchestral performance of her mother's famous "Eyes On Me", which Nida would be composing.

It was such a brilliant idea, from both a personal and professional perspective. The song and the singer were still well loved the world over. And though she always hated the idea of hanging on the coat tails of someone else's fame, it definitely wouldn't hurt to remind the world that she came from a decent, loving family (minus Carraway), and not the fiery pits of the underworld. It was also the perfect segue song to begin the second section of the music program, which was meant to be a slow merge into the student-run, _Welcome White SeeDs_ portion of the Festival. According to Selphie, this period was crucial to slowly weeding out the dignitaries while somehow transforming an event of candlelight & champagne elegance into a strobe light & beer keg discotheque. Which was why original, mix-genre music was deemed necessary.

If only to witness how the hell the petite girl intended to visually pull off the switch, Rinoa was actually greatly looking forward to attending the event. Even though the idea of a professional orchestra playing her pieces live still made her want to throw up…that is, if any of the million vague ideas roving around her brain ever came to fruition.

"Oh crap," Nida suddenly exclaimed while sitting up straight on the cot, the movement viciously pulling her out of her reverie. "We forgot one."

Though it was better to realize a mistake now than one month down the line, still Rinoa could not help but begin to panic, wondering how the hell she could have missed something. "What? Where? I just checked again! What am I, blind?"

After all, overlooking one element after such thorough nit-picking could mean that there were other things overlooked. It could mean she sprouted a sudden case of adult dyslexia. It could mean that she wasn't cut out for the job. It could mean that she was pretty much screwed for the future.

"Rinoa. Relax. Don't worry about it," he assured her calmly while scribbling something down on a post-it. "Any musician who's good at their job knows this one already. We just need to squeeze it in right about…" he reached over and slapped the post-it on the second page of the long list of song titles, right near the end of the cultural dedication section and therefore around dessert time.

Its message was simple:

"_Happy Birthday To You –_

_Piano, violin, choir – _

_21 second + 5 min cleanup."_

Rinoa, after letting its connotation digest, shot him a wry grin. "I'm guessing the cleanup is for the inevitable bloodshed if I actually considered putting this in the program?"

Nida only shrugged, his expression seemingly one of a casual disinterest. "I'm only suggesting we be prepared. You know Selphie once she sets her mind to something. And_ I_ know, if he even shows up to the festival at all, that if anyone dares to bring anything resembling a cake near Squall Leonhart, it'll somehow turn into a murder weapon. Don't ask me how. But he'll pull it off. You've seen how he is lately."

"_How he is lately_?" Rinoa repeated eagerly, getting all too easily distracted from the task at hand by the tempting lure of news on Squall's activities. She regretted not toning down her obvious exuberance though once Nida fixed her with that look. The look that reminded her of how damaging a question that was. Quickly, she cleared her throat and tried again, more calmly this time.

"It's just…I haven't actually…spoken to him. In a while. And everyone's so careful not to say anything to me. I just want to know if he's doing okay."

Nida sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, unable to keep from feeding her addiction in the fruitless effort to remind her of how unhealthy it was.

"He's just been…I'm struggling to find a more articulate word than 'bitchy', but there really aren't any other proper synonyms."

"Bitchy?" she repeated skeptically, one eyebrow raised. "Squall's being _bitchy_? And that's shocking because…?"

Nida dejectedly shook his head. "You don't understand. It's not just his usual irate self. There have been over eleven formal complaints by staff alone of unnecessary threats and unprovoked violence. And that doesn't include the constant stream of terrified cadets that have been knocking on Quistis' and Cid's door seeking consolation," his grey-green eyes, locked onto Rinoa's, were furrowed with concern. "I'm afraid if Selphie does this, good intentions or not, he may kill her. And I mean actually kill her. Dead. And all we'll be able to do is have 'I told you so' engraved on her tombstone."

"Oh stop exaggerating," Rinoa insisted with a gentle, dismissive wave. "You just don't know him as well as I do. He'd never actually _hurt_ anyone."

"Not directly, no. Not yet at least. But tell that to the twelve year old cadet with a sprained ankle because Squall wouldn't veer off his marching path even though she was holding one hundred pounds of textbooks. Or the magic professor with a shattered wrist from falling off his chair when Squall threatened to throw a computer unit at his head. Or the medical-"

"Okay! I get it! Sheesh…" turning back toward her desk, Rinoa nervously pushed her hair behind her ears while contemplating the post-it. Somehow all these events had conveniently escaped her ears over the past few weeks. This meant that either her mind had somehow been purposefully editing out these tidbits through wishful thinking, or that most of her Garden friends were trying to protect her from the ghastly fact that she was the obvious cause of these tantrums.

The realization that he was in such palpable pain that even his legendarily impenetrable façade was crumbling, made Rinoa's heart clench in anguish.

He may be kicked out of SeeD because of her. Because she had been so selfish in deciding that they should remain apart for the sake of her dignity; so that she wouldn't have to deal with the shame of knowing that her job was merely a ruse to keep her occupied while under his guard.

But what was so bad about that, really? When you thought about it…wasn't his remaining in the Commander position despite his disdain for paper work sort of the same sacrifice?

"Poor Squall…" she couldn't help but whisper quietly under her breath, having temporarily forgotten that she was far from alone in the miniscule dorm.

"_Poor Squall_?" Nida repeatedly tersely, absolutely flabbergasted by her chosen reaction. "_Seriously_? I'm telling you the he practically assaulted children and the elderly and you feel sorry for him?"

"You don't understand," Rinoa asserted while shaking her head, quickly snapping shut the notebook and tossing the post-it in the trash. She would harass Selphie later about definitely having to drop the birthday stuff, but at the moment only one thought had priority in her mind; that Squall was breaking. Possibly even already broken. And while he had been going through this, while he had been battling an unseen foe inside himself that he was near loosing, she was making party plans and chasing down damn _Sh*u~lia_ musicians AND, most unforgivably, pushing life changing ultimatums on him through third party mediators.

"I have to talk to him," she decided at last, already reaching for her blue duster while standing up.

Nida's eye widened as soon as he saw her move, instantly jumping up into a position between her and the doorway.

"No. No way," he already had her duster out of her hands and back on its hook before she could register the movement, distracted as she was by looking for her boots. "He's been deemed a danger to all Garden residents until at least his leg has healed. Quistis put him on mandatory bed rest and, frankly, Garden's doing much better without the threat of his mood swings hanging in the air."

"What?! Bedrest? They…they can't do that!" the inkling of relief she felt after having discovered proof that his absence was not avoidance, was overwhelmed by a tumultuous rush of panic. It had been three days since she last 'felt' him. Three days that he had been stewing in his suite, neither training nor working. Three days too long for someone whose mind was already on the precipice of a total psychotic break.

"He must be…Hyne, he's all alone! I have to see him. I just have to."

Nida groaned in frustration, his eyes narrowing as he looked deeply into hers and silently pointed out all the obvious reasons that this was a bad idea. Not because he honestly feared Squall would hurt her, physically at least. But because they had been productive today. Because she had been smiling and happy and _normal_ for once. And it was all thanks to having Mr. Leonhart off the radar for a couple of days in addition to some forcing on his and Selphie's part.

Alas, it didn't take long for the expression on her face to prove that resistance was futile. So, with a sigh of defeat, he reached under the bed to pull out the black combats boots he had seen hiding there earlier.

"Here," he tossed them none too gently into her waiting hands. "You owe me."

"Owe you?" she repeated while taking a seat on the edge of the cot, forcing one boot on while the other hung by its laces from her teeth. "For whash? _Letting_ me leave mys dorm room? Findshing ze footwear zhat would haf taken me two minutes to find myshelf?"

"No. For escorting you to the cafeteria to make up for the fact that it's nearly curfew, and neither of us has access to the administrator SeeD suites."

Rinoa paused, mid lace, boot still dangling from her teeth, as she took a moment to absorb his words. A second later her shoulders visibly slumped and she released her jaw to let the boot fall useless on the floor beside her.

Of course it wasn't that easy. Like beginning any type of communication with Squall had ever been remotely easy…

"Dammit…"

"Tough luck kid," he gave her a friendly punch on the arm to prove his sincerest of regrets. "You can harass Quistis about visiting hours tomorrow. But I'm still starving and we have about," he brought his wrist up to his face, "5 minutes to swipe the last of that deliciously stale veal parmesan. So boot it up!"

Reluctantly, Rinoa knelt down to retrieve her discarded foot ware and began to pull it on. She could practically feel Nida's cocky smirk boring into the top of her skull. "I'm just worried about him you know," she had the sudden need to clarify. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to check in on a friend."

"There is when that friend has a tendency of biting off heads. Hurry up will ya?"

Both laces tied, the sorceress leaned back onto the cot and did a jump into the center of the room. "He's different with me," she insisted while moving to retrieve her duster from the wall hook. "And he might be with you too if you gave him a chance."

"Did I mention he punched a hole through the infirmary window because a medical cadet mispronounced a word?"

Rinoa paused while half way through adjusting the blue fabric on her shoulder, considering. After having to live through weeks of her own type of awkward spasms, it was oddly comforting while still disturbing to know that the he too was having a worse than dysfunctional time of it. For there was no other reason for Squall Leonhart, the most disciplined SeeD in the world, to be acting so recklessly.

It simply had to be a reaction to the recent separation, whether magically influenced or not. Who knew what else he was experiencing behind closed doors, out of the public eye. Maybe it would go away with time, maybe it would get steadily worse. Either way, they needed to talk about it. Tomorrow. As soon as possible. Definitely before the World Council conference.

But for now, for tonight, as she finally organized her thoughts well enough to be able to get her arm through the other hole, she decided to let Nida be a welcome distraction. For it had been fourteen straight and blissful hours now since she had bothered to think and therefore worry about Squall. Fourteen hours where her temperature stayed low enough to be bearable, she had been actually productive with her music duties and was now confident enough to progress with the originals.

Squall just needed that same type of diversion to entertain his subconscious.

Together, they would find it.

"Things will get better. He'll get better. You'll see." With that assertion in mind, Rinoa flashed Nida a wide and genuine smile as she moved on to the sleeves, taking her time pulling each slowly up the length of her forearm if only to frustrate him with her pace as punishment.

"Things will be different. After the conference. Whatever he chooses, you'll be getting a big promotion! You gotta thank him for that at least."

"It was Quistis who recommended me for Commander. Not Squall. Squall doesn't trust that anyone can do his job."

"Will you not be satisfied until I agree with you that he's a monster who's not worth my time and energy?"

"I'm just saying…you can do better. An Elnoyle for example. That'd be a step up."

"Now who's being _bitchy_?"

With a groan of frustration and a glance at his watch, Nida gestured with frantically rotating wrists for her to speed up the process. Rinoa smirked, happy at having temporarily won the argument that they had been having since they started working together. There was no end in sight to the constant debate over whether Squall was worthy of her attentions. But at least with Nida he knew it was a losing battle. And yet he never got angry or bothered or defensive. It was just lighthearted banter disguising a truly miserable subject matter.

It was actually somehow relieving having someone around who didn't believe that she and Squall were meant to, somehow, be together. It made her feel for once in her already painfully scheduled life that she still had some control over her decisions and emotions, even if in the end it wasn't at all true.

"Okay! I'm ready I swear," she stated once having put her hair up into a secure clip and taking a deep, calming breath. Though she hadn't been outside her dorm in more than three days, she knew that the normal air conditioning was in no way comfortable for her constantly flushed flesh. And she was always a tad fearful that one of her episodes may begin while in the corridors. But somehow, upon seeing a composed Nida offering her his arm and giving her an annoyed _'you will suffer if I miss this dinner'_ glare, she knew that everything would be okay tonight. And tomorrow. And the day after that: the day of the World Council conference.

For whichever decision Squall made, whether to stay with her on the Gardens tour or remain as Commander, though her heart would indeed suffer a blow she may never fully recover from if he chose the latter, at least she had Nida. At least, no matter what, she would never be completely alone.

Though it may indeed have been a little too early to tell, still, as she walked forward to take his arm that night, Rinoa somehow just knew that this would be one of those friendships that would last a lifetime.

"Okay. We officially have two minutes to make it to the cafeteria," he announced while leading her the two steps to her doorway. "I think we need to add in a little competition to ensure no dawdling. Winner gets the last pudding, assuming there is any pudding left."

"A race?" Rinoa's jaw dropped in mock horror. "Are you serious? Aren't we a little…old?

"It's not about physical age. It's about the level of our lack of maturity."

She laughed then, her whole head thrown back as she did so. "You Nida, are going to be an awesome Commander."

"I know. So get ready," he leaned forward and put his hand onto the doorknob, using his other arm to hold her back so that she didn't get a head start which she immediately tried to swat away.

"You're cheating!"

"I have to open the door! You can't just run ahead of me. How is that fair?"

"Your legs are almost twice the length of mine! How is _that _fair?"

"All's fair in love and war. Deal with it. We have one minute left till cafeteria closing. GO!"

The door was yanked open and the first lunge taken. But that was as far as either of them got. For a body stood in their way. One that took both residents more than a couple of seconds to actually recognize.

He was skinnier than usual, his eyes sunken and dark. It was also the first time he had been seen in public unshaven and, obviously, completely un-groomed, lingering outside her door dressed basically only in dingy winter sleepwear. Still, there was no question of who it was. That fierce expression was indeed one of a kind.

"S..Squall…" Rinoa let out at last, having needed a moment to find her voice. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

She waited patiently for a response, but soon realized that his attention was otherwise occupied. Her eyes followed his line of sight to focus on Nida standing next to her. Both men were glaring at one another, both with more resentment than she had ever seen mustered in either of them.

Whether it was out of jealousy or protectiveness, she saw both their fists begin to clench and decided then, considering Squall's recent reputation for violent outbursts, to quickly insert herself between them.

'_Squall…'_ she prompted sternly in their other, non-verbal form of communication, praying that he could hear her over the thick murk that skulked around his brain. _'Stop it. You have no right. Calm down.'_

Still his barriers held firm, too distracted to bother letting her in. That or he really didn't want her to witness what atrocities were going on inside his head.

"Relax. Both of you relax," she instructed audibly, her hands spread out to maintain a civil distance between them. "Squall. Nida. You've met before. You graduated together. We're all friends. So…" she flashed a brief pleading glance back at her assistant, begging him to understand, before turning to face her ex-boss. "Nida's here helping me with the music. You know that. Quistis told you days ago. So answer me. What are youdoing here?"

"Yeah," Nida interjected smugly from over her shoulder. "What _are you _doing here, huh?"

"Nida, chill? Please?"

"…Fine."

Squall took a moment to consider, switching between giving Nida the evil eye and glancing at Rinoa with watery-eyed longing. He swallowed loudly before leaning in closer, determined that the third wheel have no part in what he was about to say.

_'I need…'_

'_to talk to you.'_

' _Alone.'_

His thoughts came to her in quick, strained bursts, as if he was trying to hold back and only release what was necessary. Like poking holes in the lid of a pot of boiling water. Rinoa winced at the forceful resonance as well the unexpectedly potent smell of him.

"What the…" she leaned closer in a rare display of shocked-spurred confidence and grabbed the front of his sweatshirt to bring to her nose. Squall had always had his own special smell. A simple one of soap and sometime a non-overpowering sweat. But this. This was what Seifer used to smell like after a night out with his less than reputable friends from Deling.

"Have you been…" she took another long sniff. "Smoking? And…and drinking…_whiskey_?"

All concerns and pity flew out of her head the instant she felt him internally tense, the cloud surrounding his consciousness becoming suddenly thicker. His expression was also an annoyingly familiar one of ennui that had been enhanced by the sunken features and pasty skin.

Not ten minutes ago she had feared for his sanity and wanted desperately to prove that he was stronger than this vile magic by rushing over there and holding him close. Now, as demonstrated by the wide step she took backward after releasing his shirt, she wanted nothing more than to push him into a vat of bleach. It was the only way the stink would ever come off. And, of course, the burning eyes and skin would be an added bonus.

"I-I've had a rough week," he explained hastily in an unusually gritty voice, no longer concerned about having Nida as a witness, suddenly terrified of losing this opportunity just because he had needed a distraction. "It's not a habit. It's just a phase. A phase I'm trying to get over. I need your help to get over it."

Rinoa's hands rose to cross over her chest, seriously debating whether this conversation was worth having or whether should she just take the final step back into her dorm room and bolt the door. "Are you drunk now? Is that why you're here?"

"No. Of course not! I just… I just needed to see you."

"You smell like you've been fermented!"

"What? I only had…" he looked down to his zipped sweatshirt and remembered why he had been forced to remove white t-shirt beneath; the result of daring to share his stash. "_Damn it Irvine!_" he hissed, with a frustrated hand running through his short, sticky hair.

"Irvine? What does he have to do with this?"

"He was over trying to…I don't know…implement some form of inappropriate male bonding. He ended up spilling on me. I am not inebriated, I swear."

"Ha!" Nida couldn't help but interject.

"Shut up Nida," countered both parties in unison, shooting him with a glare. One of them, however, immediately regretted the outburst and moved to his side while wearing a penitent expression, desperately whispering in his ear.

"I'm sorry Nida. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I just…_look at him_!" she gestured with her head toward the Commander standing not even three feet away and probably hearing every word.

Nida took a moment then to regard the Commander. As disturbing as his appearance undoubtedly was, it shouldn't in any way be made into Rinoa's burden to bear. He was a SeeD for heaven's sake. They had taken a damn class together on how to suck it up in hard times, to never let your weakness show on the exterior, which Squall had aced with little to no effort. The only explanation for his current state was exaggeration, luring Rinoa through her infamously irrepressible need to help people and solve problems.

Still despite all these reasons, one look into her eyes told him that it was pointless to argue. He could only sigh and plant his head into his palm, laughing lightly at his own feebleness. "No matter what I say, you're going to go with him, aren't you?"

Rinoa took a moment to glance back at Squall. Or, more accurately, at the pitiable, seemingly destitute person that Squall had become. She still found him beautiful, oddly. His bright blue eyes still shone from beneath the dull skin, proving that he was still the man she knew underneath all those layers of grime and defeat.

And Nida was right. No matter what he did, not matter how low he sunk, Rinoa would never, ever be able to deny him at least the chance of deliverance.

"I'll see you in the morning," she whispered to her comrade, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the bicep as she did so. "We'll have breakfast. I promise. Besides, didn't you mention something about an _engagement_ tonight?"

Nida opened his mouth to counter, but then promptly shut it. They both knew he had long since missed his date, too caught up as he was with the festival preparations going so well for once. Still, he couldn't help but halfheartedly nod in response to her teasing/pleading wink while swallowing the lump in his throat.

"I'll see you in the morning. We'll have breakfast," he repeatedly quietly, taking a miniscule step back to denote his surrender.

Rinoa silently thanked him.

With a deep breath, she rearranged her expression to one of reluctant acceptance and took a wide step to bridge the gap between her and the Commander. His eyes followed her hopefully, relieved at being given a chance but still nervous - not putting it past himself to not screw it up.

He watched with attempted calm as she scanned him slowly up and down, disappointment etched into her features. Not because of his appearance. He could be running around in Moomba suit and she wouldn't care less, as long as he was happy to do so. But her disappointment instead stemmed from the obvious fact that he was so clearly unhappy, and yet unwilling or unable to do anything about it. That was the source of the distress that was currently dominating in her dark, expressive eyes.

"Let's go," she prompted sternly, gesturing towards the Garden core. Inviting him to enter her room was not an option this time. Not only because of Nida was still decisively guarding the entrance, dark grey-green eyes flashing with the promise of a challenge, but because Squall had yet to prove that he was stable enough to deserve alone time with her.

Thankfully, the location was more than alright with the Commander. He didn't trust himself to be alone with her either, not after these past few weeks of bitter, saturating cold that was still making his veins shriek for her revitalizing warmth. And so he headed down the hallway on his crutch, trying with all his might to suppress the giddy smile that threatened to explode onto his face the moment he heard the familiar heel-on-marble clicks of Rinoa's boots following him, as well as the burn of Nida's eyes boring into his back.

He had won this round, sure. But only time would tell who would truly win the war for Rinoa's attention. The war for Rinoa…

* * *

**Author's Note: **It's currently that awesome time of year in between semesters and internships where I have two week to do nothing but cook, clean, drink and write fanfiction. I was so eager to get to the Squinoa content here that this chapter actually ended up being around 30 pages by the time I was done. It was split of course, meaning that the next chapter is already written and ready to post, depending on review numbers :P. Thanks again everyone.


	14. Muse

"_Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, and every conqueror creates a muse."_

**-- Edmund Waller **

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 14: …_Muse_ …

She followed him for what felt like centuries. Down one hallway, around the fountain and up another, then back again.

She tried to ask where there were going. Both audibly and inaudibly. Both sternly and softly. The response in all cases was only the quiet buzz of the florescent lights overhead and sometimes, silently, an echoing, indecipherable gust of jumbled phrases having escaped from the confines of his mind, causing her to violently shudder.

After the third run around, she finally realized that he was simply wasting time, watching with angry apprehension as the last straggling students sprinted by them, desperately trying to avoid identification by the notoriously ruthless Commander as they made their way to their dorms a little past curfew. Lucky for them he was in no mood to reprimand. He simply wanted them gone. He wanted to establish a sort of public privacy that satisfied both his and Rinoa's desire to be alone yet was tamed by the looming threat of potential interruption and security recordings.

Word would spread soon enough through the chat networks that the Commander was roaming the halls. No one but the most suicidal and sneaky of students would attempt to break curfew tonight. Lovers' rendezvous would have to wait till free period tomorrow, in-dorm game gatherings would be rescheduled and those few especially devious ones hoping to get out to Balamb for an evening show would have to begrudgingly kick off their formal shoes and curse their bad luck.

SeeD cadets were such predictable creatures. Fortunately.

Many, many minutes and a deep, resonating pang of pain from his leg later, Squall decided that the halls were and would remain clear enough. He took an appreciative seat on the stairs leading to the elevator, his crutch settled beside him, and while staring at his running shoes, waited patiently for Rinoa to station herself next to him.

She never did. From the upper limit of his vision he saw her black boots purposefully and resolutely planted a meter ahead, one of them tapping impatiently. The Commander smirked.

"I don't bite," he teased quietly while patting the space next to him "only emotionally scar."

It was a simple, joking statement that still caused her foot to freeze mid-tap and her mind to audibly (to him at least) cringe. With great difficulty, he forced his eyes upward to stare into her simultaneously angry and confused expression. One that caused him to immediately regret beginning on such a light hearted note. There was nothing funny about his current situation.

"Sorry. That was…inappropriate." He swallowed in response to her silence, trying to gather the will power to get to the point, knowing that her naturally relatively limitless patience had already been pushed to the brink of snapping.

As she had done to him earlier in the dorm hall, he took a moment to scrutinize her then, noting all the physical changes that had occurred over the past few weeks.

She seemed somehow…fuller. An odd but suitable adjective, and the complete opposite of his currently diminished state. Where he has lost weight, she had gained, especially around the hips and chest. Where he had lost color, she had become a slight shade darker, rosier, her lips now closer to red than pink. Her hair - it had grown at least six inches in length, the tendrils that had escaped her clip now brushing her elbows where her arms crossed beneath her chest. While he had become a pathetic shell of a man, she had become more feminine, more beautiful than he could ever imagine.

It wasn't fair.

"You look hot," he said at last after a painfully long silence, causing Rinoa's eyebrows to immediately rise and disappear beneath her long bangs.

"…Excuse me?"

"Your skin, I mean," he clarified, shutting his eyes and mentally cursing his horrid phrasing. It had been too long since he actually talked to someone without attempting to insult or make uncomfortable, he had almost forgot how to have a normal conversation. "Flushed. I meant that you look flushed."

"Yeah well," she flipped her hair out of her eyes with attempted normalcy, hoping that her bangs still hid the droplets of sweat that threatened to streak down her face. "It _is _the middle of summer, oh brilliant Commander."

Squall shook his head, annoyed that she dare lie to him now. "I'm not buying it. It's less than ten degrees in here and you're sweating like you've just run the marathon."

"You did just make me march three times around the entire Garden circuit. Remember?"

"Stop it Rinoa," he said roughly, his eyes now burning into hers with such ferocity that she was forced to involuntarily lean slightly backward. "It's a symptom. We both know it is. This will only work, we can only fix this, if you get over yourself for two minutes and be honest."

Rinoa sneered, finding it ironic that _he _was lecturing _her_ on being open and candid of all things.

She wanted to tell him. Everything. Honestly. About the fact since leaving his office, she felt constantly hot, heavy and agitated. She wanted to tell him about how she'd been having random, intense _fantasies_ (she still refused to use the clinical word that Kadowaki suggested) that became more frequent the longer he had been absent. Even though it would embarrass the hell of her. She wanted to tell him that only Nida's presence, of all people, calmed her enough to feel and act normal. Even though it would break his heart…or worse, cause him to, literally, break Nida.

But not here. Not now.

Slowly, she averted her eyes towards the video cameras attached to the central column of the elevator, the motion detectors of each causing two of them to swivel and adjust to her every move.

'_They're watching us…' _she tried to whisper to him through their connection, but his barriers were so thick and firm that it was like trying to penetrate a wall of bubble gum using only your breath.

Luckily, her reaction was telling enough. And Squall didn't have to even turn around to know that her line of sight was fixed on the security equipment. Such implements that he himself had been vigilant enough to make sure they monitored every inch of public space on campus. All except the secret area, which he still wasn't able to get to thanks to Cid's ban on him being anywhere near the training center.

He sighed loudly and ran hand across his face, thinking. Gently, he could feel her trying to prod his mind with her thoughts and ideas, some of which managed to come through in fractured, nonsensical word fragments. But that option, regrettably, also wasn't a viable one. He was too tired, too stressed and, despite his earlier assertion of sobriety, the alcohol had made him still woozy enough that it would be all too easy to let those forbidden, inappropriate images wander off into her.

No. This conversation had to be vocal. But also private, while at the same time without temptation.

He met her eyes, one hand resting on his cheek supported by an elbow on his good thigh. A quick analysis of her stance proved her to be the usual combination of annoyed, impatient and enticed. Her restraint had never been an issue to question before, neither had his. But these past few weeks had changed things, maybe more so in him than her, he fathomed. And the last three days especially…it was currently taking all his concentration and will power to not, at the very least, bring her into his arms and keep her there, restrained. As if he were still a child and she his favorite stuffed toy that he refused to part with, despite any inconveniences to everyday events such as walking, working and eating.

But no. That analogy implied that she was his possession. When in fact, quite the opposite were true. Where he had lost strength, she had gained. Where his will was beginning to crumble hers was, perhaps, becoming more determined. It was her trust, her faith in him, which would keep him in check. It was what had been keeping him sane all this past year. He needed it back. But he also needed differently. And he had a plan to get it.

"I'm…tired…" Squall muttered softly while rubbing at the space between his eyebrows. "And I…trust you. Please."

His eyes begged for comprehension, but the message was so cryptic that for a few moments Rinoa could do nothing but stare with parted lips as he held out his hand to her for assistance off the stairs.

Everything about the action contradicted itself in a multitude of ways. He said he was tired, implying that he wanted to return to the dorms, even though he had spent so long creating a panicked frenzy among the cadets for privacy, even though he didn't have the confidence to be alone with her. He said he trusted her, even though he currently wouldn't let her into his mind, despite the assertion that they be completely honest with one another. And the please, along with the hand for assistance that he obviously didn't need and usually didn't want. What did he want? What was he trying to say?

Despite the uncertainty, Rinoa choose to lean forward and accept his hand anyway, daintily wrapping her soft fingers around his thick, calloused ones.

As usual the delicious coolness washed over her, resonating from the point of contact up her arm and into her chest. However, unlike when she and Nida touched, the sensation wasn't so much relieving as it was intoxicating. Like comparing a gentle summer breeze on a hot day to a shot of adrenaline after an injury: satisfying the shock of the act by numbing everything else, bringing only them, the catalysts, into intense and immediate focus.

Slowly, perhaps too slowly, she lifted him up from his seat; an easy feat considering her new strength paired with his recently diminished state. As his face came closer she felt time begin to slow, everything around them becoming black and white and out of focus. It was the magnet effect again, she could feel the buzz of electricity as the two polar opposites, Squall and Rinoa, negative and positive, dark and light, couldn't help but move closer.

The mental barriers folded under the pressure of their proximity and Rinoa had to let out a gasp at the sudden rush of images that assaulted her brain, streaming from Squall's conscious.

Images of everything he wanted to do with her.

The expected, mirrored ones were there. The happy memories of what would never be. Images of tangled sheets and limbs and lips. Pushed further to include ceremonies with white dresses and gold rings. Picket white fences encasing a field of flowers.

But those were not the alarming ones. There were other, darker fantasies mixed in between these mutual dreams of placid bliss. None one hundred percent lucid, but all followed by flashes of what was without a doubt her smile, her eyes or her hair.

Some of them were of fame. Of screaming crowds both frantic and elated. Of dark red, always red, rose petals being flung at what were, unquestionably, her feet.

Others were of fighting. The unmistakable glint of the gunblade cutting down everything in his path, always followed by her face, her hands, her praise. A job well done.

Many of them, an unprecedented amount, were of blood. Deep, scarlet liquid that seeped brightly over and around every monochromatic apparition. Over towns, over forests, over Garden, over his hands, over her hands. The scent of it was overpowering, forcing Rinoa to throw away his hand and jump backward, her palm covering her mouth to suppress a gag.

"I trust you…" he repeated in a now shaking tenor. "Please…"

With a deep breath to expel the remaining molecules of odor, Rinoa began to understand the message.

'_This cannot happen…'_

'_The bad outweighs the good by far…'_

'_I trust you not to let me.'_

'_I trust you not to push me.'_

'_I trust you to help me…please…'_

"Okay," Rinoa was nodding emphatically without little more than a millisecond's consideration. The montage had been so simultaneously horrifying and euphoric that it was hard to believe that their source was not already in a padded room and straitjacket mumbling to himself. "Of course. It…won't. Yes. Sure."

She turned to leave, needing desperately to digest what she saw and where it could fit, if it fit at all, in her plans for the future.

There was no doubt that the visions terrified her. Mainly because she actually wouldn't mind that majority of them coming to pass. But the context, she knew, would be severely skewed in practice.

There would be fame, _that_ type of devoted fame, only through power and not through music.

There would be success, success he would be proud of, only through the slaughter of those who dared to question her.

There would only be a love, passion, marriage as a result of demanding magic.

All these things came in a non-refundable package. None would exist without the other coming to be.

Yes it was terrifying. In fact, it was damn near immobilizing. She had to get away him. She had to let him forget about the horror of his involuntary desires.

"I know what you're thinking," Squall said in a harsh whisper, reaching out with a tight grip on her bicep after she had taken no more than two steps. "But it won't go away. _It will never go away._"

Rinoa laughed quietly to herself, amused by the fact that she was so easy to read by him even while their connection remained closed. Being away from him, leaving Garden and going somewhere far, far away was the only thing they hadn't tried yet. "What do you propose I do then, huh?"

"We've had this conversation before Rinoa," he growled, pulling her back slightly as a signal to keep their voices low. "It wouldn't work. Besides, those were just twisted wishes, not prophecies. They only started recently, after you left. We just…we just need to find a medium."

"Then come with me on the Gardens tour! Become Captain!" she suddenly sputtered, turning to him with wide and bright eyes, desperately grasping his hand in hers. He winced at the gesture, visibly frightened at having her so close, but she ignored it. "It's the perfect solution, don't you see?"

Slowly, his head began to shake, as if resisting its natural will.

"I-I can't," his throat seemed drier than it had a few seconds ago. Like saying no to her was actually causing physical pain somehow. "We have to stay here. We've been fine. You've been safe. And what's the point in just jumping between Gardens as a glorified party planner? Just…just come back as my assistant."

"No!" Rinoa violently threw his hands away and moved to increase the distance between them, feeling the resistance like pulling two magnets apart. As hellish as the idea of leaving Balamb, her home, had been, going back to the other hell of copying papers and fetching him coffee as she watched him become more and more miserable was even worse punishment."I can't go back to that…_charade_ of a life Squall."

"You were good at the job," he insisted feebly, knowing that it in no way a fitting incentive. "Just tell me it's an option?"

"It's _not _an option. I already gave you my options. I've sacrificed enough to stay close to you and all I'm asking in return is for you to take a freakin' _promotion_ and stop being paranoid about the world beyond these walls. I have a new job now. I'm not giving up my music."

"What music? You haven't even written anything."

Rinoa's jaw dropped before her eyes turned into a narrow, menacing squint. "Have you been spying on me?"

He didn't look embarrassed, or nervous or even guilty. Only annoyed, as if she dare be surprised by the fact.

"You have, haven't you? What the **hell** Squall?"

"I hardly call reading Selphie's blog as spying," he explained at last, mirroring her annoyed arms across chest gesture. "She's been complaining about your lack of production all week."

With an exasperated groan, Rinoa rolled her eyes to the ceiling and cursed the petite girl's obsession with publicizing every aspect about not only her own life, but also everyone else's that she came into contact with.

"So I-I'm having a bit of a…creative dry spell," she stuttered while casually moving her hands to her hips and lifting her chin, trying to maintain some semblance of confidence. "The festival is still weeks away anyway."

"But you need to have the sheet music ready for the band practices before that. And then, knowing you, you'll want to refine everything. And you'll be busy enough trying to perfect the cultural songs. And…"

"I know I'm screwed Squall. No need to rub it in." She continued to give him the evil eye while taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. If this was his method of trying to whip up a panic which would lead her into quitting, then he didn't know her half as well as he thought he did. For his assertion of her inevitable failure only made her more determined to succeed. Even if she had to kill herself while doing it.

"I don't blame you for having trouble," he insisted gently after a pause. "You're working only with an ancient keyboard after all."

"An ancient keyboard was all my mother had in the beginning. And she did fine."

"You, Rinoa, are not your mother."

This time he succeeded in making her speechless, the sharp stab of his words causing her throat to burn in that familiar way that would surely cause any exiting words to be laced with palpable dejection.

The daughter of Julia Heartily. A near child prodigy in piano playing, after years of rigorous yet enjoyable lessons. A passion that had near disappeared after her mother's death. Everyone expected her to be great, to have the same if not superior ability in producing magical compositions that would bring tears to eyes and lightness to hearts.

But, the sad truth was, that when she sat at that piano, in that cramped room, willing the music to come…most of the time…

…she felt nothing.

"I know I'm not as good as her," Rinoa admitted quietly, but with determination. "But that doesn't mean that I can't try to be. And thanks for your support by the way."

Squall shook his head, annoyed. "You misinterpreted me. As usual. I said you weren't your mother. You're different. You're better."

Rinoa scoffed. "How would you know? As you so bluntly pointed out, I have yet to write anything. And I know Selphie's already assembling a backup set list in preparation for my failure."

"Then she'll be missing out. Cause I hear it. In here," he pointed to his hair line, keeping his hands in front to avoid gestures being picked up by the cameras. "You probably don't notice. But I do. It's how I can tell when you're still around, that you haven't abandoned me. In your head, when you're not _nit-picking_ and _worrying_ for once, when it's quiet harmony, I can always hear your music. And it's…" he let out a long, loose breath "beautiful."

The first thing Rinoa did upon hearing this, was nit-pick and worry. Was Squall actually losing his mind, or did she truly have masterpieces buried somewhere in her subconscious? Each option was unsettling, a creative dead end. But Squall had described it as _beautiful_. A word she had never heard escape his lips. It made the disturbing revelation somewhat impossible to ignore.

"Even if that's true," she began, all her effort going into simultaneously trying to keep her voice steady and her words comprehensible while trying to unearth this apparently "beautiful" melody. "It's lost somewhere in the dusty confines of my mind. In a corner I can't see. I can't get it out. It's useless to me."

Squall only smiled. This simple expression, so rare and precious, instantly expelled all thoughts and worries from her mind. For it was proof that he was still human, still himself, despite the ghastly images that she knew were stalking his psyche. And just then, in a brief window of comforting clairvoyance…she heard it too.

There was no other word for it: Beautiful. Indeed.

"Ahhha…"

It was right there, floating eagerly just beneath her skin. A pulse begging to be released, rich and thick, like her very blood. She experimentally held her hands in front of her, flexing and un-flexing her fingers, wondering with elation of what would happen if at this very moment she had the keys of her piano beneath her fingers.

Squall, of course, could read her mind through her actions. So there was no need for words to be exchanged before he grabbed his crutch and headed back down the hall toward the dorms. Both of them feeling a strange yet insatiable need to see what she could produce with this new lucidity.

They walked in relative silence, except for the melody shared between them. It played in time to the sound of their mutual heartbeats, their breathing, their footsteps and the gentle gush of flowing water beneath their feet along with the pulsation of the bright lights. Like the Garden was alive with her life force, her music, creating a new original and exotic rhythm.

She was so entranced by it that she hardly noticed when they took a different turn in the hallway. Nor when they passed through a second set of security doors, ones that did not exist in the open access student dorms where she resided. It was only when the hallway got darker, warmer, that Rinoa began to realize where they were going…where they already were.

As quickly as it began, the music stopped.

They were in the administrator dorm wing.

"Squall…"

"Relax," he interrupted while pulling a keycard from his pocket. "My suite is that one." He gestured with his head to a door only a few steps down the hall, its shiny gold name plate boldly stating "LEONHART". The door they were currently standing in front of had no such title. It was in fact the only door down the long corridor that remained blank.

"Where the hell are you taking me then?" she asked bluntly, believing there to be no point in being coy at this time. Especially since his detour had made her fumble and drop the melody she had been so excited to make corporeal.

"I figured you'd want to keep with the music writing. But I still don't want us to leave Balamb. There's a way we can both get what we want." Without any more ado, he inserted the key in the lock and pushed open the door, stepping back so that she could enter first.

Inside was pitch black darkness that threatened to swallow her up with false promises. She eyed him curiously, keeping her feet firmly planted in the hall as she searched for hints of deception in his eyes and what little she could access of his mind. Squall clearly wasn't at his best mental stability. What if this compromise ended up with her being tied to a chair for the expected near-decade it would take for the world to accept her?

"Invalids' first," she insisted while gesturing inside with an open palm.

He breathed loudly and moved his pupils to the right, which she knew to be his personal version of rolling his eyes. "You're paranoid."

"Shouldn't I be?"

It had been less than ten minutes since he had dared to let her into his mind and witness the atrocities inside. The purpose had been to serve as a warning for her to be careful around him. And though in this case, in her calming presence, he was far from feeling the need to do anything rash, he forced himself to swallow his irritation anyway and quickly hobbled inside toward where he knew the lights were installed.

It took her a few moments to adjust to the sudden brightness. But as her pupils dilated and her brain slowly began to process the various blurry yet obvious shapes, she couldn't help but release an audible gasp.

"How…how did you…"

"Cid gave me this suite to expand into, but I have more than enough space." Squall explained hastily as he made his way back to her side so that they could face the room together. "I know you said you didn't want or need better rooms like Odin's sorceress. I know you said you didn't want a Knight to _entertain_ you. That's not the point of this, I swear. And…you don't have to use it. If you don't want to. It was just a project to occupy me during sick leave. Really. But…I figured…you could use some better tools at least. And you can record here, you won't need the orchestra to practice your originals. You can take as long as you want with them. It was just an idea. I'm serious when I say that you don't need to…"

He was interrupted by an insistent hand on his mouth, pushing so forcefully that his head hit the open door behind him. Upon averting his eyes, he noticed that hers were still glued ahead, digesting the sight of the studio with wide, somewhat incredulous eyes.

After a minute or so, she let her hand fall, her fingers trailing across his lips as she did so, yet her stare remained fixed. He watched with mounting concern as she took her first steps across the threshold and into the space. There he remained, petrified, as she explored every piece of equipment, every instrument, with both her eyes and her fingertips. Across the bookshelves filled to capacity with sheet music and instruction manuals, flicking the strings of an old acoustic guitar he had found in storage, caressing the largest of his purchases, a complete multi-screen keyboard, switch board and computer terminal, making smudges against the glass of the miniscule recording booth that was still missing a door, which lay on its side on the floor along with piles of wires and microphones.

"I'm not finished," he felt the sudden need to clarify as he saw her regarding the dismantled pieces. In an apprehensive gesture of attempted confidence, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. "The package was missing some bolts. I ordered them. Should be here by tomorrow I hope. I think I threatened something like letter bombing their relatives if they didn't…heh. Not that I would!"

She ignored him, now in the midst of dragging her nails along the red leather couch stationed in front of the kitchenette's island counter.

"But the computer is set up. You can start recording with any of the electronic instruments. I'm told it's the best in industry."

Along the wall mounts now, the length of the flute's body, the brass trumpet valves, the viola's bow.

"These all came from Garden storage," he explained while daring to take a few steps closer. "We all had musical training for espionage purposes. Its why I can do abnormal things such as dance and why Selphie, Irvine, Quistis and Zell can play almost any instrument, as you saw during the FH concert they put on…remember?"

She ignored him still. He cleared his throat loudly, feeling his heart gradually sink further into his stomach. "But with the world army, there's little to no need for subterfuge. Music is an option now for cadets. One which not many people take. So…I figured…"

The words hung there in the air, begging for a response of any kind. For he had run out of small talk options. It had never been his forte. Rinoa was obviously in no mood to indulge, nor to even acknowledge his presence.

The old Squall would have long ago gotten frustrated and left. The Squall who used to see Rinoa almost every day, all day, would have perhaps made some biting comment about her head being in the clouds and wasting his time. But too much was riding on her reaction, so far empty, to allow him the pleasure of indifference this time around.

"Please…" he whispered quietly at last, eyes on the floor and his crutch held tightly to his body for both physical and emotional support. "Say something."

"Where did you get this?" his head whipped up in surprise at her quick response, riveted by the way the muscles of her back and shoulders flexed as her hands wandered over the central element: a polished grand piano that had by far been the most difficult piece to get a hold of and into Garden.

All the trouble had been worth it though. For it was also the one piece that made the studio as a whole, impossible to deny.

"I made some calls," he stated simply, his confidence spurred by her awe-struck tone. "Carraway was reluctant to part with it, but delighted by the idea that you would be using it. That it would be making music once again, a generation later."

"Hmmm…" slowly, her fingers never leaving the instrument's surface, Rinoa moved around its circumference until she hit the bench, a deep exhale passing her lips as she prodded the all too familiar red velvet cushion. She half expected it to disappear the moment she let it go, as if it were a ghost, a phantom of her past. In many ways, it actually was.

Her fingers wandered up toward the ivory keys by their own will, exploring them with feather-light pressure, not yet stable enough to dare make a sound. That is until she brushed upon one particular spot. A single key, the A closest to the right. The only place in a low, smooth row of perfectly carved white keys with a little dent. Only noticeable by feel, not sight.

"Ha!" she couldn't help but exclaim, her trepidation instantly melting at the confirmation that this piano was not in fact a spirit. This flaw made it "human", it made it real.

"When I was seven years old," she began, more to herself than to anyone else in the room. "It was the middle of the night and I had a recital the next day. The piece I had selected was the most difficult one I had ever attempted and up until then I still hadn't been able to play it perfectly. See, my mother wouldn't let me practice more than two hours a day, insisting I go outside and play like a normal kid."

Gently, she lowered herself onto the bench, sighing in pleasure at the familiar comfort of the seat. "I couldn't sleep. So, naturally, I snuck out of bed to practice. I had to get it perfect. I wanted my mother to be proud.

"Our house may have been big, but it wasn't a fortress. It was silly of me to not realize that my midnight playing would wake up my parents and piss off my dad, who cherished the little sleep he got. When he came downstairs and switched on the light, I was so startled that as I tried to get up I tripped and broke my tooth on this here key…I spent the time I was meant to be at the recital waiting for emergency dental surgery."

Unconsciously, she felt her tongue run itself along her front teeth, chuckling slightly at her past childish idiocy. "Music isn't meant to be perfect, my mother told me afterwards. It's the little changes, the personal flair you give to it, that makes a great musician." As an adult she felt herself nod in agreement, knowing that as a youngster she had considered the statement to be ridiculous, simply a mother's humoring. "I…forgot…"

"She's right you know." Rinoa whipped her head sideways, watching with wide, watery eyes as Squall lowered himself next to her on the bench, his crutch discarded on the floor. "It's why Selphie denied your first two songs. They were too…expected. Generic melodies with generic words that so obviously didn't express anything about you. Just what you thought she wanted to hear."

"Hmm…" her fingers still lingered above the keys, afraid to touch. Both because of the ghosts of her past and the uncertainty of her future.

"Why did you do this?" she asked quietly a minute later, still transfixed by the keyboard.

"As I said, I hear the music in your head. It's there. Just waiting to be released. All you have to do…" he reached forward with his left hand, barely brushing against her right, and played a few notes "is find your muse."

A B, a C sharp, a G, an F, a D sharp: a simple trill played with faultless pacing, reminding her that he too must have had some musical training during his time as a cadet. And as he had done with every challenge presented back in those dull days, Squall hadn't been satisfied until he mastered the art of melody.

The room was engulfed with a sudden chill as he continued with faster, more complex note combinations, the fervor of which caused her to inexplicably tremble. If Squall noticed, he didn't say anything. Just kept playing slowly and softly; a gentle lullaby that seemed hauntingly familiar while still refreshing. Almost seductive.

She joined him then, almost involuntarily, as her fingers finally lowered with enough pressure to produce booming notes. Their individual trills clashed terribly at first, the fingers of her right hand rushing along her side of the board with speed and passion while his slow, patient tones lingered above and beyond her plane.

Despite the fact that this had begun as just fiddling with the instrument, she was shocked to discover after a few moments of listening, actually listening, that what they were playing was in fact…working. Squall's gentle key strokes were forming a perfect complementary melody to her loud and frantically paced sub-beat.

She couldn't help but close her eyes then, trusting her instincts to hit the appropriate keys in response to changes he made in his rhythm, her free hand tightly grasping at the bench beneath them.

As he sped up, she went slower and vice versa. It didn't take long for the feeling to resurface; the strange euphoria of the music taking over, a pulse beneath her entire skin that was finally getting released through her finger tips, a modest buzz of energy shocking her system with the pressure of every key she hit. A sensation she was sure they were both sharing in inexplicable sync.

'_There's nothing to see here now_

_Turning the sign around_

_We're closed to the earth til further notice'_

Both their minds cleared of the respective cobwebs and demons as the song's melody increased in mutual speed, the metronome of their heart beats rising in exhilaration. She knew this studio was meant to be a bribe; an un-ignorable incentive, using this very piano as a flamboyant center piece to convince her to remain in Balamb Garden and give up the publicity consulting job and all the travelling that came with it. It was a low blow on his part but still, as much as she hated to admit it…the option was starting to become very tempting indeed.

'_Pain on pain on play repeating_

_With the backup, makeshift life still calling…'_

The song continued, faster and faster, nearly reaching its climax, both of them furiously travelling along the ivory stream. The music, the lyrics, the accompanying instruments were all too easily filling her mind, unable to determine which fragments were hers and which were coming from him. As if their consciousnesses had become one harmonious being. So many plans, ideas, desires that she feared her head would explode with all the new material. And it would all be possible. She had the time and equipment and resources and inspiration to do it all now. Thanks to him.

Her muse, she discovered, had been obvious all along.

'_Time heals everything, they say_

_A lullaby for those found wanting_

_Praying, any second now, for the breakthrough, the light_

_Am I to waste away in waiting?'_

Squall's hand brushed hers. An expected accident when two adults shared a small area. But something about its timing, along with the disturbing lyrics her mind had automatically conjured, caused her to react as if being burnt. Violently, she flung her hand from his, forcing him to press down on too many keys at once, its brash noise causing the once beautiful melody to come to a harsh and wince-provoking end.

"Rinoa?" he asked quietly after a solid minute of stunned silence, his voice curiously breathless. "Wha-"

"I don't know okay!" she interrupted hotly, still holding her hand to her chest as if it had indeed been injured. Her sight remained on the piano, refusing to look him in the eye less the now familiar rush of stimulus force her into choosing. "This is all…it's amazing what you've done here. I thank you. But…I don't know if this will make being trapped in this building any less difficult for me. Nine years Squall. Its…it's too much."

She heard Squall sigh from beside her and knew that he was leaning his forehead into his hand, as he often did when bothered.

After a minute with no response she decided to attempt to clarify. "You said it would be that long before we can…try. Because that's how it worked out with Odin's sorceress, you _think_. But you can't hide me. And they won't just forget about me like they did her. Not only were her powers a secret but there were many other sorceresses wrecking worse havoc at the time. We can't just sit here and wait it out. We have to get out there. They have to see us to trust us. At the very least we have to give it a try."

She chanced a glance at Squall out of the corner of her eye. As expected, his head was in his hands, his expression unreadable and, as always, silent. A bright red light just beyond his unruly hair drew her attention; a giant digital clock which read a little over twelve am.

"Its midnight. A little over twenty four hours till the council meeting," she whispered to him nervously. "I want to go on the tour. I want to bring this piano and some of the equipment with me. And, more than anything, I really, really, want you to come with me…"

Nothing. Not even a shrug. Not even a muddled thought fragment since his barriers were fully up once more.

He must have been so sure that this would work; that a nicer room, closer proximity, convenient toys and a family heirloom were all it would take to convince her that she belonged here.

'_My dear ,_' she thought teasingly, knowing that nothing was getting through anyway. _'You really have a lot to learn about wome-' _

Her mental verdict was interrupted in the most unexpected of ways. It was by a strong pair of hands weaving their way into the hair on either side of her face, forcing the clip that held it in place to disengage and let the long strands fall to her shoulders. The arms attached to those hands swiftly retracted to pull her closer, the elbow of one hitting a few piano keys as it did so, the melody it created adding to the surrealism of the moment.

Even as his lips covered hers, she didn't close her eyes. She couldn't. Not until something, anything, confirmed that this just wasn't one of her fantasies. Not that it felt like one. In the fantasies she usually felt in control, she was usually the instigator and, not to mention, Squall's face had never felt this rough, nor had the stench of whiskey and sweat been so potent. He also tasted different. Not of the spiced cinnamon toothpaste but of the remnants of sweet liquor and ash. It wasn't exactly a good taste, but it was far from a bad one.

One of his arms moved from her face to her waist and pulled her even closer, till her elbow as well began hitting random notes as she was rather ungracefully pulled partially onto his lap. His mouth moved on hers, more insistent than she had ever been able to imagine, the hand behind her head weaved into her hair and pressed her more eagerly against him.

She knew then, without a doubt, that this was not a fantasy. And with that simple yet distressing realization, her eyelids began to flutter closed as she enthusiastically returned the pressure, her mind instantly besieged by the fast-paced melody that she had so rudely broken. Her boots hit more awkward notes in her clumsy attempt to position herself more comfortably and directly upon him with the relatively limited amount of space the bench offered for such activities.

This was just a desperate attempt to get her to stay, that she knew. But that was far from the worst reason for why this was a bad idea. Already she could feel the familiar fire begin to consumer her, one that had been burning just below the surface of her skin during this entire evening in his presence, the music being a greater aphrodisiac than chocolate.

She wanted to pull away, to warn him, knowing that in instances such as these, anything she touched would turn to ash. But for the life of her she couldn't. It was just too good, too relieving after YEARS of waiting, wanting and, most recently, imagining. Besides, any second now he would yelp in pain and it would be over. She felt it coming; the hands now twisted in his soft, short hair would any second now be engulfed in flames and he would shove her violently away, never to attempt anything remotely like this again.

This awareness made her more desperate, more hungry as she pushed closer against him, chest to chest and mouths cemented. And, to her surprise and delight, he reciprocated eagerly, also probably expecting it to end just as suddenly and brutally.

But it didn't.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, but her lips had long since become raw, his sweatshirt had been unzipped and was falling off his shoulders and her duster lay somewhere discarded beneath the piano. Maybe their luck would hold out. Maybe it was just the temptation, the fantasy of Squall that caused the fire while the real thing released actual disappointments into him and therefore didn't need a magically destructive, alternate outlet.

As a test, she dared to take it a step further, her hands sliding themselves from his hair, to his neck, to his chest, to the front of his hips. She heard felt him tense and heard him gasp between kisses, but nothing to imply that he was in any actual pain. Quite the opposite in fact.

Rinoa felt herself grin against his soft lips before they were besieged once more.

Maybe this was what they needed, not to avoid each other but to actually be. To go with the flow of their natural desires and trust their morals, their conscience, to keep them honest. To—

Again, her thoughts were interrupted. This time rather viciously. First by a slight groan from the furniture, at first ignored, then a loud crack as the right leg of the bench snapped under the pressure of their combined weight on one spot, dumping them unceremoniously onto the floor.

The music stopped.

Their landing was as ungraceful as the beginning. Her knee got him squarely in the chest as she fell, knocking the breath of him as her head hit ground, the carpet doing little to cushion the blow of the solid cement flooring beneath.

"_Son of a…"_ hissed Rinoa through gritted teeth, cursing both the pain and, primarily, the interruption.

She heard his anxious, rapid breath from somewhere beside her and hoped against all hope that the fall did little to upset the mood she had worked so hard to invoke. But it was silly wishful thinking to expect Squall to press against her and continue where they left off. Still, just in case, she kept her eyes closed and didn't bother adjusting the straps of her tank top that had slipped down her shoulders.

They had been so damn close…

"Rinoa…" she heard him breathe at last, his voice one of shock and awe, followed by the tell-tale zip of his sweatshirt being closed. It was over then, she realized with an irritated sigh.

"Urgggg…" she ran her hands through her hair and up her face to remain covering her eyes, whimpering in the most extreme frustration she had ever felt in her life. It was partially her fault for letting it get so far, but it was in majority his fault for starting it. She phrased her next sentence very carefully, releasing each word one at a time, palms pushed deep into her eye sockets to avoid seeing him and therefore losing it.

"Don't. Do that. Unless. You plan. To finish. It. Okay?"

She heard him scramble up onto his hands and knees.

"Rinoa…open your eyes."

She shook her head. "I can't look at you right now."

"**Rinoa**!" something in his voice, more distressed that she had ever heard, made her consider doing as he asked. But before she had a chance to decide, her hands were ripped from her face and pulled to bring her into a sitting position.

As she struggled to focus while composing a proper insult for him treating her so roughly, her heart skipped a beat as the un-mistakable flicker of flames took over her vision. She began to panic, frantically pulling the straps of her shirt back onto her shoulders and trying to concentrate on taming it.

The weird thing was; she didn't feel hot like she usually did. She wasn't fevered, her vision wasn't kaleidoscope colored and the pace of her breathing had lowered to a normal rate during her time lying down. Not only that, but the flames…they…were blue?

She brought her hands to her face, hoping the light of them would help her find focus in the dim room. And that was when she realized.

They weren't coming from her.

"Squall…" her hand flew to her lips in shock, wondering what strange type of poison these powers had infused them with.

All of him, almost every inch of visible skin was pulsing with a thin, translucent layer of dancing blue glow, a shade that reflected perfectly in his matching, bright eyes.

Her original impulse was to panic, to throw a large bucket of water on his head in hopes that it would go away. But something in his face, somehow calm and serene, told her that everything was under control. Or, at the very least, it didn't seem to be hurting him.

"Squall," she said again, shuffling closer and daring to take his head in her hands, wanting to quiz him on how the hell this happened, how it felt. But the instant her skin touched his, the areas beneath her fingers, which felt pleasurably cold, instantly lost their light. The sections of unaffected skin gradually grew from beneath her finger, washing over his entire body like a wave. Until, finally, the glow was gone. Leaving in her arms the normal, flesh-tone Squall, with eyes that seemed suddenly bluer and brighter than she had even seen.

'_What the…?'_

"We gotta get you to Kadowaki," Rinoa insisted, her voice high and slightly frantic. She moved to stand up but a strong hand instantly forced her back to the floor.

"No!" Squall asserted, latching both his hands to her elbows to prevent escape. "She'll tell the Council. Don't you see what this means?"

His eyes were definitely glowing unnaturally, she decided while swallowing the large lump in her throat. "It means that something's wrong with you. And because of me. You have to see the doctor!"

He laughed then, a full joyous laugh that made her seriously debate his sanity. "I think Odine was wrong, Rinoa. I think he was wrong!"

Before she could ask what he meant, before she could even blink, he was on his feet with crutch in hand and making his way toward the door.

"Squall wait! You can't just…"

But he was already gone.

She could have attempted to follow him. She could have ran out the door, kicked at his injured thigh and stolen his crutch, forcing immobility until he explained what the hell he was talking about. The old Rinoa would have done that.

But this Rinoa was tired. This Rinoa could not handle another disappointment tonight, especially as she cradled the splintered remains of both her dignity and her mother's antique piano bench. He seemed fine after all. Unnaturally excited, but still fine.

And so, to distract herself, she began cleaning up the fragments after judging the piece to be a lost cause as the events of tonight kept revolving furiously in her head. The visions of blood, the studio gift, her mother's piano, Squall's kiss, the blue fire, and Dr. Odine's apparent mistake.

She couldn't even fathom what it could possibly all mean. She felt like she was being led closer and closer to the edge of a cliff, waiting non-too-patiently for the committee-made decision as to whether it was better to fight, run or jump.

Personally, if they had bothered to ask, she would have said that she wanted to jump. Hyne she wanted to jump…

Just kissing him, even though she knew there would be repercussions, had felt so horrendously good. The fantasies were nothing in comparison to the genuine article, despite the fact that the real Squall had been much less "perfect" than her imaginary, gentle lover. As a result of their tryst, her lips were currently swollen and tender, her hair tangled, her head aching and no amount of mouthwash would ever be able to get rid of that horrid taste of stale cigarettes from her mouth. And yet, somehow, she didn't want to trade any one of those once considered disgusting and uncomfortable consequences for all the fame and fortunes of the world. They were evidence that it actually happened.

A glance at the clock showed it to be almost one AM. It was impossible to contain the girlish giggle that bubbled past her sensitive lips as she realized that she and Squall must have been kissing for nearly half an hour.

She had never before lasted that long. In high school it simply got boring and they'd stop. In adulthood they'd quickly move on to other things. And yet in this room, with him, she had honestly never wanted it to end.

With a sigh she glanced to the door, her heart feeling almost painfully heavy and yet held high by hope.

He would come back. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. But something had changed. At last. She could hardly wait to see where it led.

'_It doesn't get better than this_

_The many windswept yellow stickies of my mind_

_Of the molten, emotional front line_

_I couldn't care less…I'm transfixed_

_In this absolute bliss…'_

_Beautiful_…

_I should probably write this down._

Bench or no bench, Rinoa grabbed a handful of the blank music pages Squall had been kind enough to supply from the writing desk and propped them up on the established place above the keyboard. She played a few notes, changing the order and pace once or twice, and then scribbled them down on the sheet, humming to herself as she did so.

She had found the music.

_Finally_.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ridiculously long chapter, sorry. But once I get the Squinoa going, upon every re-read I have to add a sentence, a revelation or two. It's a habit. When I started 'editing', this chapter was 11 pages. Now it's 14. But can you blame me? The kiss was supposed to be a quick one followed by a swift exit and the song writing. But no. After such a long wait, it had to be more epic than that :D.

**_Rinoa's Lyrics_: I have to officially credit them to the artist, by law and by my wanting to pimp a bit. They're a remix of various snippets off Imogen Heap's new album "Ellipse" (a strong recommendation from me if you like that type of indie electronic) reformatted to suit the character needs. It was just an inspiration to me and her methods of 'collage' music mirror how I thought Rinoa would compose.

Because the album is so new, there's no free youtube vids of it yet. But I found a nice instrumental of the "Wait it Out" song which is the one I imagined them to be playing together, especially at the climax around 2:40. Check it out if bored:

Wait it Out (Piano Instrumental) by Imogen Heap: .com/watch?v=UX-eeMvAWqc.

I was actually so inspired that I used the song to make a little FFX tribute snippet as an HD test. .com/watch?v=DlnBz_s9Uqc&feature=channel_page

Done pimping my favorite artist now.

Till next time everyone. Thanks again for your kind reviews.

****Special Thanks to **Warui-Usagi (.net/u/881106/Warui-Usagi), my new Beta-Reader, for cleaning up this chapter!


	15. Discretion

"_There are always two choices. Two paths to take. One is easy. And its only reward is that it's easy.__"_

**-- Anonymous **

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 15: …_Discretion_ …

"Didn't like the eggs today, eh Nida? What, you think I spit on them?"

Nida gave the cafeteria worker a wry grin as he continued to scrape his entire mound of cold breakfast food into the trash. The pristinely empty plate with crisscrossed utensils was surrendered to her, hoping that impeccable manners would gloss over the apparent insult.

"Just…not that hungry this morning Rose. Sorry. I'm sure they were delicious."

"Pft," she dumped the dishes into the water-filled sink and faced him, hands on her wide hips, glowering. "I put _one_ sliver of Caterchipiller entrails into _one_ person's hot dogs and suddenly no one trusts my food! I did it on purpose you know? Not my fault that the cowboy and blonde guy were silly enough to steal off the Commander's plate."

Nida chuckled and nodded, remembering fondly the event that had both SeeDs stumbling over each other in a rush to the bathroom. It also resulted in dear, justice-seeking Rose to being banished to dish duty for the past several days since. The punishment was rather lenient considering the crime, but that was mainly due to the fact that everyone wished they had had the guts to do something similar themselves. "No one blames you for that. And I'm serious. I'm just not hungry today."

"My eggs aren't good enough for you. You never called my granddaughter either, she tells me. You're already developing quite the reputation of arrogance Mr. Future Commander."

"_Maybe_ Mr. Future Commander," he corrected. "The Council meeting isn't till tomorrow. Then we'll know. And Leonhart still hasn't given me any hint of his decision."

As the all too familiar aggression started to invade his brain at the very thought of Squall, Nida forced himself to take a deep breath and tilt his head right then left: a Shumian _Reflections_ mediation exercise. Still, as he replaced his still clean tray on the pile to be reused, he couldn't help but use a little more zeal than necessary – the loud clatter it made causing several heads to turn and Rose to take a small start backward.

"I guess-I guess I'll just tell Meerin to forget about it," she said is an unusually meek voice before returning to her washing. "Just thought you two would hit it off. That's all."

"I'm sorry Rose," he mumbled while rubbing at the space between his eyes. "It's not you, it's not her. I'm sure your granddaughter is beautiful and more than I deserve. I just…"

"Aren't interested. I get it I get it. No need to throw things."

"I know. Sorry. Won't happen again. Bad day."

"It's only eight."

"Then it can only go uphill right? Especially if there's gonna be lemon chicken for lunch…?" he dared to flash her a swaggering smile, which she eagerly reciprocated after only a moment's hesitation.

"Maybe there will be. _IF_ you're in a better mood. Now shoo! I got work to do." She swatted him away with her towel while moving to retrieve the next set of dishes from a waiting cadet and Nida, gratefully, took the opportunity to escape with his 'nice-guy' reputation intact.

Today was just one of those days where no amount of natural-born optimism could summon an ounce of genuine contentment.

Rinoa had missed breakfast.

_Again_.

Even though she had promised this time. Even though she had been so much better last night, before _he_ had shown up and pried her away by appealing to her incomprehensibly vast guilt complex. She was probably, right now, back in the room he had tried so hard to get her out of for some normal activities. And it would take another few days of unproductive prodding and pushing and arguing until she finally recognized, yet again, that she could and should do so much more with her life.

In preparation of this inevitable showdown, Nida decided at last minute to skip the gray corridor that led to his and Rinoa's rooms and instead continued down the circular pathway. Past the parking lot, past the training center, till he was stampeding upon soothing blue tiles, straight into the library.

He refused to let Rinoa fall back into that useless, depressed funk that she had been coasting along in these past several weeks. There was no doubt in his mind that with a little perseverance she had both the talent and ability and to make this Festival one of the best Garden had ever seen. Success would lead to appreciation, which would lead to more prospects so that the appreciation could grow into actual demand for her services which would, eventually, lead to trust. Leonhart's whining would not ruin this opportunity for her. He wouldn't let it.

His plan was pretty simple. Collect some poetry textbooks and sheet music for inspiration, knock down her door (hinting most gently about the missed meal of course) and then get to work. No talking about what happened last night, for he honestly didn't want to know. Just a gentle reminder of the stakes that were at risk and of the great rewards that would come easily if she just focused.

Not wanting to waste time browsing the infinite stacks, Nida marched straight up to the desk with the intention of asking the infamous pig-tailed librarian to pull up some examples. She was practically a walking, talking card catalogue after all.

"Kina, my beautiful Kina, I need-"

"**SHHHHHHHH**!!!!!"

This girl, who had often been described as the shyest, most reserved person in all Garden, now had both her hands slapped onto his cheeks, smashing them together, her eyes wide and alarmed.

Nida's brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could even open his mouth to ask a question or release an expletive, she pulled him closer with unexpected strength so that his torso was half over the reception desk and their faces inches apart.

"_If you wake him. I will kill you. Got it_?" she hissed in such a low whisper that he could barely comprehend.

"Wha? What are you…"

"_SHUT. UP_!" she annunciated clearly and tartly, before releasing his face and letting him fall back to the correct side of the desk.

The message was clear now. Though its reasoning was still a mystery.

He took a moment then to scan the library. Though it was still early, one would expect the room to have at least a few early-bird students cramming for lessons that would begin within the hour. As a cadet with high standards, he had spent many dawns here with his nose pressed into a junctioning textbook.

But today, for the first time ever, not a soul save the librarian was present. And it didn't take him long to find out why.

For sprawled over one of the largest tables, surrounded by open books, was Squall Leonhart. Unmistakable despite his rather unconventional dress and positioning. He was wearing the same clothes he had seen him in last night, the gray sweatshirt with nothing underneath slipping down one of the shoulders, his crutch leaning on the chair beside him, his greasy hair plastered in one direction and a small puddle of drool gathering on the dark wood beside his slightly open mouth.

Nida sighed. And this, ladies and gentlemen, was their fearless leader. The pride of Garden.

Well no more. This was, what they call, the last straw.

"_What are you doing!?_" he heard Kina hiss, her voice high with panic, as he gathered up a random pile of texts from the return cart and sauntered over to the table. "_Don't do it. Nida! DON'T!_"

He heard her scrambling with the lock to get to the other side of the desk with the intention, perhaps, of physically restraining him. But she was too far and too late. Without a second thought, Nida swept clear a small section of table in front of Squall's face, raised the heavy books he held above it, and let them drop.

"Whaa.." Squall jumped at the sudden noise, tipping his chair in the process and frantically scrambling with his arms before catching the edge of the table to right himself.

"Good morning Commander!" Nida announced with loud, fake enthusiasm. "Nice to see you here at this joyous **breakfast** hour on a **school day**."

Squall only blinked slowly while lifting a sleeve to his mouth to wipe away the saliva remnants and rearranging a surely sore, stubble covered jaw.

"Mornin'," he mumbled quietly, showing not one trace of embarrassment at having been caught napping in the library in such a state. He simply cracked his neck and pulled the zipper of his sweatshirt more securely upward before moving to collect the various books he had around him. Only after stacking them in a neat pile did he bother to look up at Nida, his bloodshot blue eyes all innocence and apathy.

"You need something soldier?"

It took all of the SeeD's self restraint not to smack some smidgeon of dignity into him. And he probably would have if it had any chance of succeeding. But if Squall didn't want or need to follow any type of protocol or decorum, then he was probably the last person on Earth that could force him into it. And so, accordingly, Nida decided that there was also no longer any point in even attempting political correctness.

"Where's Rinoa?" he asked bluntly, silently praying that the man had no idea.

Squall's initial response was…unexpected. It was but a slow, savory, almost malicious grin. A cheeky, self-satisfied expression that for some reason made Nida very, very uncomfortable.

"She's in her studio," he announced after a sufficiently nerve-wracking pause, reaching over to gather his crutch and use it to lift himself out of the chair. With the books tucked under his free arm, he hobbled over to the reception, Nida hot on his heels.

"You mean her room?"

"I mean…her studio," he tossed the books onto the desk, flashing Kina another one of those disconcerting grins as she shakily typed in his ID and began scanning. "The one I built for her in the administrator wing."

"The administrator wing…studio?" It took a while for the information to digest, outlandish as it was. For Squall Leonhart didn't give people lavish _gifts._ He gave people intimidation. If you were lucky, he gave you ignorance. He was also renowned, to those few who had to communicate with him on a regular basis, for making things infinitely more complicated than they had to be.

Something told Nida that no matter how much time he spent trying to dig up the real reasoning, if he was even indeed telling the truth, Rinoa was still the priority. Who knew how she was reacting to this bizarre change of events, especially with the World Council conference right around the corner. Who knew what had happened last night that led to Squall falling asleep in the library…to Squall _smiling_, even if somewhat eerily?

"I don't have executive status yet. Can you let me in?" he asked with the same bluntness, following as the Commander scooped up his rentals and started down the blue corridor.

"Sorry Nida. Wish I could help but I'm off to Kadowaki. Getting this thing off today _finally_." He tapped at his cast, the creepy grin still present on his lips. "You're going to have to ask someone else."

"Come on Squall. It'll take you a two minute detour to let me into the admin hall. Help me out okay? Rinoa needs me."

Squall paused then, so suddenly that Nida barely had time to avoid walking into him. After a deep breath he spun to face his inferior, lips pressed together, considering.

"Sorry," he said again, after another awkwardly long pause. "But I have my priorities."

Nida could only stand there, slightly stunned, as Squall gave a loose salute/wave combo before limping away at a more than walking-speed pace down the circular pathway. Conveniently, in the opposite direction of the dorms even though the Infirmary was equidistant from either way.

Nida let out a tired groan as he watched the man disappear around the corner, cadets on their way to class still standing frozen, pressed against decorative foliage even after he had long since passed them. Where once the words _cold, strict _and _meany_ had been sufficient to describe Squall Leonhart, this little scene was cause enough for a promotion.

To Asshole. Correction, _Commander_ Asshole.

At least until tomorrow, when the lowly pilot would either replace him or outrank him as Captain. But for now, for today, he had to let the guy have his sick sort of fun.

While shaking his head at the senselessness of it all, Nida reached into his pocket and pulled out his wireless communicator. Begrudgingly, he began to dial Quistis who would, without a doubt, need a lot of convincing to get her out of the office and to the dorms in the middle of the work morning.

_Good one Squall,_ he thought sarcastically while bringing the ringing device to his ear. _But it'll take more than that to discourage me._

"Quistis? Hi! It's Nida. Look, I need a smalllll favor…"

* * *

_Ding! Dong. Bing. Bing. Bing. Ding!_

"Urrrmmmm,"

When Rinoa woke up, she was still making music. For she fallen asleep at her keyboard. Actually, **on** her keyboard to be more specific, her plastic imbedded cheeks producing quiet, disorganized chimes through the computer speakers as she squirmed into uncomfortable consciousness.

"Shhhh…" she commanded of it, her eyes still closed as her head slowly lifted itself up. "Not before coffee!"

The computer complied once it was relieved of her weight, for which she patted the screen with failed gentleness, murmuring "good Angela. Good girl."

While rubbing a palm into one of her sockets to remove the gunk, her other good eye struggled to focus on the disaster of a studio. Despite its current state (the floor littered with papers, sticky notes, instruction manuals, instruments, wires, dirty dishes, microphones and various other random objects she had found and pulled out of hiding places), this place had so far actually proven to be effective, inspiration wise.

After a mere seven sleepless hours, she could now confidently say that she had a song Selphie would be 'woo-hooing' over. At least after some careful editing once she learned how to properly use the damn software. But still, it was a beautiful piece. Something that she was sure, despite its modern execution, her mother would approve of. If only because she had fun making it. If only because it was a portion of her heart made audible.

A Heartily had a voice once again. One that, hopefully, the world would approve of as well.

After picking her way to the counter, Rinoa giggled in relief as her hands surrounded the insulated coffee pot, still hot from brewing over two hours ago. He had always mocked her for drinking old, cold coffee just because she didn't want to waste/was too lazy to make a new batch. It must have stuck in his mind even when ordering this most common of utilities, selecting a model that could make many cups and still keep for ages with the aid of a burner. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. For a man who had probably never given a gift, he was frighteningly good at it. Then again, when the "gifts" were meant to be a motive to give up your freedom, they better be wisely chosen.

Her smile instantly faded as remembered the dire reason she had been offered all of this.

Squall wanted her to stay in Balamb, to produce music but never present it outside these walls. Seven hours ago, she had refused, knowing that no material good would ever satisfy her need to have a _life_. Seven hours ago, he had kissed her, because he was desperate. Because he didn't want her to leave him. Seven hours ago, she had somehow lit him on cold fire and he fled, leaving her baffled and desperate for an outlet. And in less than twenty-four he would telling the world…something. And there was so far no hint that she would know what it was first.

So she daintily sipped her coffee, pushing all thoughts and worries of Squall to the back of her mind, knowing it was useless. This allowed the music to bubble up to the surface, making her itch to get back to work.

A new song…Something about _secrets_ she decided_. Secrets that fly. Secrets that swallow. _

She was back fiddling at the piano when a knock on the door broke her trance, causing her to almost spill her coffee over her mass of notes in the shock of hearing anything beyond the song, the prayer, in her head. Though initially annoyed at the interruption, the feeling quickly passed as her returning wits reminded her of the one and only expected visitor.

"Squall!" she immediately ran to the door, stopping only once to kick some tangled wires off her feet, before finally grasping the knob and yanking it open while wearing a wide, excited smile.

But of course, as always, it was proven foolish of her to expect him to be expectable.

"Uhh…Hi?" announced Nida with an awkward wave, obviously startled by her exuberance. The expression automatically toned it down a notch upon seeing him, her mad grin fading to an amused smirk.

"S-Sorry," she giggled, slightly ashamed. "Thought you were someone else. Not that I'm not happy to see you! So much has happened!"

"I can see that," his eyes wandered over her shoulder to explore the messy yet incredibly alluring mass of _stuff _beyond. A veritable treasure trove to an audio buff such as himself, which had surely cost more than half a year of the Commander's salary. Nida couldn't help but be impressed by the man's dedication in convincing Rinoa to stay. "Wow. He really set you up nicely, didn't he?"

"Who? Squall? Yeah. Come in and check it out!" she reached to grab his hand to pull him inside but he expertly thwarted it, ultimately deciding that his distaste for Squall's obviously successful _purchase _of Rinoa's favor, overpowered his desire to fiddle with all the gadgetry. Even the complex computer system that had obviously come from that custom place in Esthar. Even the Multi-track RoxlandXL5200 slider dashboard, that he knew cost more than his car.

"No. No thank you. I'll pass."

Rinoa paused, hands on hips, rolling her eyes as the obvious reason for his reluctance came to mind. "Don't be such a chicken-wuss. It's my room, not his."

She reached for him again, and again he dodged causing her to groan in annoyance.

"Nida? What-"

"Tell me you're still going," he interrupted, his eyes not daring to shift from space beyond her head. "Tell me that you weren't bought by this and that you still want the life, the freedom, you deserve."

"I wasn't bought by all this." Her voice was calm, solid, carefully repeating word for word. "I still want the life, the freedom, I deserve. I'm still touring the Gardens."

Nida shook his head. "I don't believe you…"

"Why not?"

"Because _I_ would be bought by all this. I mean," he couldn't help but push past her and enter the room then, having an insatiable desire to confirm the brand name of the machinery. Sure enough... "It's awesome!"

Rinoa laughed, the lovely tinkering, genuine laugh that she only released in the most heartwarming of moments. In a couple of steps she was behind him, her delicate hands slowly winding their away around and settling on his chest to give him tight, circulation-cutting squeeze.

"Oh Nida," she snuggled deeply into his back, the wool of his uniform jacket pleasantly scratching against her cheek. "What will I do without you?"

"Without me?" he repeated, his head tilting in a failed attempt to read the expression of the girl behind him. "Did he tell you then? He's going on the tour with you?"

"…Would you hate that?"

Nida shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "I'd miss you. But I'd still see you three months a year. And during all Garden Festivals as Balamb Commander. And we'll email of course. Sooooooo…yeah, honestly, I would kinda hate it," they both chuckled awkwardly, if only to distract from the misery of the moment. "But I know it's the best thing for you. So…I'll deal. I'll be happy knowing you're happy. Wait, that's too cliché isn't it?"

Rinoa giggled. "A little, yes. Everyone says that and no one ever means it."

"Then how about this; I'm happiER seeing you out in the world with him, than here rotting with me. Satisfied?"

He felt her nod against his back before letting her arms fall, breaking their embrace with an exasperated sigh. "Just so you know, I still have no idea what he plans to say to the Council. So let's not bother with the heartfelt goodbye yet, kay?" Suddenly feeling very tired, she sauntered over to the piano where her coffee mug still waited, needing jolt as well as a diversion.

As she took her first, lukewarm sip, her eyes rose to study the giant digital clock above the computer terminal. Nearly nine in the morning it read. Twenty three hours till the meeting and still nothing. She hadn't even felt his presence returning to his suite next door. Even though he had seemed almost giddy last night, if such a word could be applied to him ever. As if the blue fire signaled something, something important, that could lead to the absolution of all their concerns. Since Rinoa was still struggling to fathom how such an incident could lead to _any_ type of positive conclusion, the decision was made for her that she'd simply have to wait for him to purposefully present the findings. As frustrating, fruitless and disappointing as the idea was.

Annoyance reanimated, the 'secrets' song began to automatically seep out through the cracks in her patience, desperately filling the gaps where the fantasies once invaded.

_ 'Nobody had to know._

_ Let's lounge, let's talk, let's sleep and see what happens_

_ Do what you want. Just how you like._

_ Nobody has to-'_

"Woah!"

Nida. She had almost forgotten he was there, silently entranced as he was by her computer as her mind, yet again, wandered off to Squall-related melodies. With the mug of precious, liquid black-gold still poised to her lips, she curiously noted that he had somehow found and plugged headphones into the system. And on the screen, all too brightly, was the pulsing green audio wave of her latest, still-too-raw track being played at high volume.

"Wait!" With desperate, shaking hands, Rinoa somehow managed to replace her cup on the counter with minimal spillage before leaping towards the terminal, her fingers stretched out, poised for the escape key. However, upon remembering that she probably hadn't saved the file since so glamorously passing out on the keys, she instead choose to interrupt the defiler of privacy by violently ripping the headphones from his head. The wince it provoked felt only slightly justifying.

"Ow! What the hell Rin?"

"It's not done yet, you ass!" she explained while flinging the equipment to the floor, realizing through his cringe that they probably cost an obscene amount of gil. Not that it mattered, really, when her pride was at stake. "You can't just-"

"I was just checking out the software. I didn't know it was your work, honest!" his hands were held up, empty palms facing her, as a sign of surrender, his eyes wide with awe-struck terror. "I thought this was a sample! It took you two weeks to figure out how to change your desktop background so…I didn't think you'd learn it so fast. Until…the voice came on…and…" His arms gradually lowered, yet still those stupid wide eyes of new found wonder continued to overwhelm his expression. "You did this...since last night?"

"Yeah…" Though her brows were still narrowed in offense, soon enough Rinoa began to fidget under his intense scrutiny, suddenly feeling like a new and exotic animal at the zoo. "What of it? It's just a rough draft. I only spent, like, six hours on it tops. And most of that time was spent trying to disentangle wires and-and trying to figure out how to get the damn," she gestured to the complex audio editing interface shown on the screens "thingy working."

"Rinoa," he had that seriously lilt to his voice; the one that warned her that the upcoming sentence would be of great importance "This song is...its..." As he struggled to find the word, she felt a large lump beginning to develop in her throat and her eyes squeezing shut in a flinch. Waiting non too patiently for the bomb of his disapproval to drop.

"Its..._amazing_!"

It was the one verdict she hadn't expected. After all, he was as big a nit-picking perfectionist as she was.

"Amazing?" she repeated, daring to peek one eye open. "Amazing as in…not horrible?"

"Amazing as in _amazing._ Original, upbeat. Non-depressing and never heard before. I can't believe you did all this is ONE night! Of course, the drum beats could be a little more sporadic, less mechanical. And the chimes here," in one fluid movement he had the headphones whipped up back into his hands and the end pulled out of the computer tower, tossing the entire bundle aside so that the still-playing music rang out loudly through the speakers. Her heart and soul up for offering on the sacrificial altar. Before she could blink, he was seated at the terminal and was clicking around the program vigorously. Before her ears, the drum beats became softer, less mechanical just as he described, flowing more cleanly with the rest of the track. Finally, perfect. "Remember, I can change anything back if you want."

"No, no! It's better, you're right." She moved forward to position herself by his side, riveted by all the menus he was pulling up that she didn't know existed.

"We could up the echo a bit here." Again, instantly, her background chime melody became softer, more in tune. "And this vocal track…"

"I know. I know. It's horrible. It was just a test. I plan to get a proper singer soon."

"No, no! It's perfect. We need better quality of course, but besides that," he made some strange gesture of kissing his fingers which made Rinoa raise an eyebrow at its cheesiness. "Can't you hear it Rinoa? Only you could bring such passion to it. It's great!"

"Nu-uh. I'm not a singer. This is just a demo."

Nida sighed, the smile still present on his lips, unable to contain his excitement of her progress despite the roadblocks she was still creating. "Let's just finish up the set with you and then see if any of the budget remains for a singer. Okay? Worse comes to worse, we'll play recording. None of it live."

"We're getting a singer," Rinoa asserted with one of her long fingers pointed into his face. "I don't care if Selphie has to give up her life-size ice sculpture of President Loire. Some things are just more important. Like not causing anxiety attacks in her best friends."

Nida turned to her, his smile widening despite the fact that his cheeks had long since become sore, while Rinoa's music washed over the room as a gentle, lulling wave. He was in no way humoring her when he used the word 'amazing'. A gentle beat, innovative instrumentals and exquisite lyrics. It was the music he always knew he had in her. Whatever had happened between her and Leonhart last night, he was thankful. For whatever the man's decision tomorrow morning, at least she would have this music, and the many other songs she was sure to produce in the future, as a forever tantalizing retreat.

* * *

Two demos later, after Nida had long since return to the dorms, Rinoa, having fallen asleep again at the keyboard, was suddenly jolted awake. Her eyes frantically spun around the darkened studio the moment she felt it, for some reason sure that someone, somehow was watching her.

But then she realized...

'_You're back?' _

Her silent thought was met with nothing but a breath. Maybe her own, maybe not.

And then...

_'...Yes.'_

Rinoa frowned. Something in his tone...it was tense.

Slowly, hesitantly, her gaze wandered over to the right-hand wall behind her computer terminal. And even though there was more than two feet of soundproofing and cement between them, she could almost faintly see his glowing, blue silhouette moving fluidly across the living space of his private suite next door.

This was something new. Something strange.

She struggled to focus on it, wanting to ignore the obvious frequent motion of his hands to his lips, knowing that it far from her business. But if only to prove that he wasn't a mirage, she had to ask.

_'Are you drinking again?'_

The silhouette's head turned to face her, it's expression unreadable but it's body stiff.

_'I guess that's a yes.'_

_'I see you too,'_ he said breathlessly, and they both automatically moved a few steps closer toward the wall. _'It's getting stronger.'_

_'What is?'_

_'Us.'_

Rinoa shuddered. She still felt half asleep. Maybe this, maybe he was a dream.

She hoped it ended well. As great a creative outlet as the studio was, the fantasies were slightly more satisfying.

_'Tell me about my day,' _ he asked while taking a seat on the floor, and before she could process how strange a request it was, she began fulfilling it. Visions assaulting her psyche like a footnoted slideshow.

_'You went to your office after you left me,'_ A brief reiteration of the kiss from a different perspective. Vision overwhelmed by a blue glow. Then the third floor corridor. His desk. A cabinet. A box, one of the boxes from their excavation of Odin's ruins.

_'You found something. Something important.'_ An old book, blanked with age. A ceramic plate, pointless. A locket. The beautiful bronze and ruby locket they had found in the sorceress' rooms. It had been welded shut, but he opened it, smashing it with a paper weight.

Rinoa winced. _'Was that really necessary? It's an artifact, not a toy you find at the bottom of a cereal box!'_

_'What did I find Rinoa?'_

She sighed, continuing. _'You found...' _ she waited, the vision seemingly stuck on slow motion as he pried the two pieces apart. _'A letter.'_

An ancient, yellow and stained piece of paper, folded over one hundred times, tumbled out of the trinket. She watched him carefully spread it open.

_'A letter from Odin...to his sorceress...Elisha?' _The name, though written in a strange language she was unfamiliar with, jumped off the page. She guessed she could read whatever he could read. Another interesting fact gleaned about Squall; he knew ancient Centrian. She wondered was other weird and pointless talents he had acquired over the years of being a friendless, brilliant and bored student.

_'Concentrate. What did the letter say?'_

Rinoa swallowed her own personal thoughts and focused back into his memories. _'It's...a love letter'_ she concluded at last as certain words glowed off the scrap of paper, unable to escape her immediate attention. _'That means_ _they were together in the end!'_

A wide smile burst onto her lips as she took a few more steps towards him, forgetting for a moment that there was a solid wall between. That is, until she hit it.

"Son of a-!"

_'What happened next?'_

While rubbing her head, now convinced that she was indeed completely awake, Rinoa struggled to keep up. She saw him enter the library, searching mounds of texts for any word on Elisha the sorceress. Then, his rude awakening by Nida and his subsequent refusal to help him enter the administrator wing.

_'That was mean you know. He's just looking out for me.'_

_'I don't like him. I don't like a lot of people, you know that. Where was I going?'_

More interested in his story than starting another pointless fight about his irrational jealousy, she waited for the images. _'You went to Kadowaki to get your cast off. Congrats.'_

_'And what did she say?'_

Suddenly she was one of the infirmary exam rooms, seeing it from a slightly taller perspective than usual, staring into the doctor's perplexed face.

"I thought we'd need to use a few potions on you to complete the flesh healing," the robust woman was saying, snapping off her latex gloves. "But you seem to be...cured. Completely. Guess you heal faster than most. That or one of my many 'special' interns miscalculated. Now put your pants back on before people get the wrong idea about us."

Rinoa giggled. As one of the few people who could make Squall blush, Kadowaki was a true champion in her eyes.

_'Odine was wrong about me strengthening your magic I think,' _he interrupted, choosing to ignore her amused reaction._ 'I don't increase your power, I temporarily absorb it. My leg was killing me before yesterday, and now its cured. I caught on fire because you caught on fire. Touching doesn't make __**you **__susceptible to darkness. It fuels whoever you touch, assuming they are already dedicated, with the power to protect you. ' _

_'What are you saying?' _Rinoa slowly knelt down to floor as her knees lost the will to support her, also wanting to be level with his invisible eyes. _'That I should never touch anyone...?Ever?'_

The glowing silhouette shook its head. _'You Rinoa...are perfect.'_

His shaky sigh coursed through her like a chilly breeze. Cold, relieving and euphoric.

_'It's me. It's always been me with the darkness. Ask me what happened later.'_

In an instant she was back in his office, going through a mound of books taken from the library and his personal scans stored on his computer, collected from libraries around the world. Finally, what she could only assume was hours later, he found reference to Elisha.

She was a painter, with works now in the Estharian Art Gallery under the last name "Morrows". The full name gave him something to search for in government records, now all available online for up to two-thousand years ago. She had died at the ripe old age of seventy-two; much longer than most humans at that time let alone sorceresses. She had had two, assumedly adopted, kids. She had married. Married someone who was most definitely not Odin.

_'What happened to them?'_

The letter was brought back out. It had another side, one that he hadn't noticed before.

A love letter, yes. But also a goodbye.

_'A sorceress needs a knight to keep her grounded, that's the theory. But they keep losing it and trying to take over the world anyway. Why? Why didn't Elisha? Because the knights aren't exactly hypnotized, innocent spectators. They've always been fighters. They've always had a natural bloodlust. They've always been part of the cause, not the solution...Odin found a proper middle ground.' _

"Being a Guardian Force..." Rinoa said a loud, forgetting for a second that he couldn't hear her through the walls.

_'Being there for her, always, but not being with her. Protecting her, but not influencing her. Having-'_

_'Don't do it!' _she cut him off, her hands lifting to press against the barrier between them, hoping to establish a physical connection in any way possible. _'I'm not worth your soul.'_

Squall scoffed.

_'Don't worry.' _he assured her with a teasingly lilt._ 'I don't even think such a thing could be done nowadays. Its ancient magic, lost.'_

_'Even if you could, I wouldn't let you.'_

_'You wouldn't have a choice.'_

Rinoa fell back onto her calves, desperation replaced by annoyance. He really did have an uncanny ability to turn any type of dramatically grave conversation into a careless bickering match. Before she could find her voice to retort, he continued.

_'Knights aren't special, supernaturally speaking. Dr. Odine's dependence theory is scrap. You don't need me, I need you. Having a knight is the same as having a favorite pet, or a puppet. A lapdog if you will. They have no natural power, only that which their sorceress gives them. It's why I can hear you. Its why when we're close I too can produce natural magic. It's why I always feel cold and empty when we're apart. Those you are close to absorb your powers. It forces a knight's loyalty, his obsession. _

_'Odin knew this. He used it to his advantage. He absorbed all her negative energy and put it to good use. He kills, but only in battles she encountered against honestly hostile enemies. The perfect compromise.'_

His appreciation for the man turned God was obvious in his tone. But what it revealed about their specific situation, she still couldn't get a solid grasp on.

_'But we aren't doing that Squall. We couldn't even if we wanted to. So...what happens now?'_

Tomorrow was the Council meeting. _Today_ actually since it was well past midnight.

She could tell by his aura, his clouded mind highlighted by thunder-like sparks of agony, exactly what he wanted to say, but couldn't even fathom lucidly enough for her to hear. He wanted to demonstrate at least a portion of Odin's selflessness, especially considering this new evidence that proved _she_ could indeed live comfortably without him. And as long as he existed, as long as he still pined for her, no one else would be affected by the curse of Knighthood. He wanted her to go to see the world, to share her music, live her life...but he...

"You're staying...aren't you?"

He couldn't hear her of course, couldn't see the single tear trail down her cheek, or the details of her nails tearing into the wallpaper, reflexively trying to pry through to touch him, to convince him that anything was worth the feeling of them being together.

But in the blink of an eye, maybe because he couldn't handle thinking about it, maybe because he figured he made his point clear enough and there was no point debating, he shut her out. His stoic silhouette faded, the storm of his mind dispersed from hers and, suddenly, she was alone.

Alone as she had always been and yet never like this before.

It took her what felt like hours to move from that spot on the floor, finally convincing herself that she needed to at the very least _attempt_ to get some rest before the video conference tomorrow. As painful as the idea of announcing her acceptance of the Garden Publicity Consultant would be, at least she would have Nida. And Squall was right about one thing. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't spend another night working in this room, knowing he was so close and yet light years away. It was too heartbreaking.

She wondered how Elisha had felt, after years waiting in the tower for Odin, finally _having_ him with her, only to be torn apart by his own damn selflessness. The very reason she fell in love with him being the reason they fell apart.

How hideously ironic.

Rinoa considered the studio doorknob with the same trepidation she reserved for moldy fruit or her mother's grave. No way could she just walk outside and past his suite like this. No way was she getting a wink of sleep tonight anyway.

So instead of heading to bed, she plunked herself down on the stool she used to replace the piano bench they had crushed the night before. Her memories, her sentiments, fueling her yet again with the music.

Nothing peppy like Selphie would have wanted. Nothing nonfigurative as was Nida's preferred taste. Just the typical unrequited love song. Something that could have very well fit alongside her mother's pieces.

Sometimes, you just wanted the typical. You wanted the normal. Simple and clean. No muss, no fuss. Not everything in life had to be so complicated.

_'Boy meets girl and the rest is history_

_If only it were ever that easy'_

Despite her recent obsession with adding beats and strange samples to her songs, the piano notes alone would be more than enough in this case. Almost too much, considering the theme of emptiness. Her fingers glided along the keyboard softly, slowly, using only one hand and never more than two fingers at once.

_'He once whispered of dreams and shooting stars_

_But here I am, left with nothing but scars_

_Two years too late, _

_I've fallen_

_Checkmate.'_

"This isn't easy for me," Rinoa's hand froze on the keyboard as two strong arms were suddenly wrapped around her.

How he got in there so silently, past the locks and deadbolts, she had no idea.

But somehow, she had been expecting him.

"I needed you to know that. I don't know why and I don't know how but, Hyne..." his breath on her neck was nearly saturated with whiskey, hands gripped almost painfully to her shoulders. Possessively. She gasped the sensation, both fearing and relishing it. "Right now, you are _everything_. And…The very idea of…letting you go..."

He let his mind open up to her then, revealing the ending of his day that hadn't made it into her slideshow. With his leg healed he had been allowed back into the training center, just after discovering the fate of Odin and Elisha, and there he had stayed...for hours. Never pausing for a second, never bothering to catch his breath. The violence had been a drug-like high that he didn't dare to come down from. Cause then he'd have to think.

Only after his body had nearly collapsed in exhaustion did the warden had rather cruelly kick him out. Alcohol had been the next distraction. But obviously not good enough. For here he was.

Thinking.

Realizing that he was nothing without her.

"It...hurts," he admitted in a broken voice he had never heard himself use. Not since he was a little boy standing outside in the rain. "But I need to protect you. I, honestly - I wouldn't be able to handle it if something happened because I was being reckless and-and selfish. I don't want to lose you. I _can't_ lose you."

One of his hands began to glide across her collar bone, the other traveling down her arm, both trailing tingles along the skin they came in contact with. She remained frozen throughout his explorations, not daring to break his trance.

"I shouldn't have come here," he whispered, pulling her hair away her neck, his lips just barely ghosting over. Trying to memorize the feel of her, her scent. So close she could feel the bristles of his still unshaven chin. "I-I should go."

_'I don't want to go.'_

Rinoa's eyes popped open even though she didn't remember closing them.

That night, a few weeks ago, right after the gunblade incident. A memory:

"_If you asked, I'd do anything. If you wanted me that badly, I'd stay. I'd never leave this room with you. But you haven't asked. You're too scared to ask."_

She debated whether his proximity was merely causing her mind to muddle fantasy with reality. But then it happened again.

_'Ask me to stay. Please, ask me to stay.'_

It was without a doubt Squall's internal voice. Much more stable and confident than his audible ramblings were. As though his heart was one hundred percent sure of where it wanted to be, while his brain dissolved into a mess, torn apart by logic and desire, unaided by copious amounts of alcohol and exhaustion.

Had this been any other man on any other night, the answer would have been obvious. He was obviously drunk and desperate and lonely and would readily slink back into his room the moment she showed one inkling of disinterest. Tomorrow they could both easily pretend that the night had ended with the purely informative conversation through the wall. He might not even remember this part anyway.

Still, for whatever idiotic reasoning that also had her leaning back into him a little and titling her head towards his mouth, she was hesitating. Perhaps it was because it had been much too long since anyone had really touched her. Maybe because it would seemed like the greatest of tragedies if his radiating coolness moved out of her proximity. But, most probably, it was because after tomorrow, everything would change.

With his leg healed he'd go back to acting Commander. She'd be in training and packing for her new job while frantically trying to finalize the festival. And in just a few short weeks time, she'd be gone. This, right now, may very well be the last chance.

What had they got to lose?

This whole night he'd been talking about 'letting go' or 'losing' her. Well...

"Just keep me." His embrace loosened slightly, giving her the space needed to turn around, hands desperately latching on to the material of his sweatshirt. Her heated eyes met his and she knew no more convincing was needed.

"Only for tonight," he warned her.

She nodded, feeling slightly inebriated herself. "Only for tonight."

"Good."

In one fluid movement he had her out of the stool and onto the piano, one hand moving up her thigh and the other already at the fastenings of her cloak, lips eagerly pressed against her throat.

As messed up as he had seemed those few seconds ago, he attended to her with the patience and care and _passion _she had always expected from him. Always the strong, silent type. Always the dedicated student. Always the perfectionist. The soldier who never ran out of stamina.

That last characteristic she was especially grateful for.

For if they only had tonight, tonight had to last forever.

_'He's the darkness to my light. I'm the fire to his ice._

_ He's wants yesterday, I need tonight._

_ In the blackout, we collide._

_ Making night become bright._

_ Nobody has to know...'_

_

* * *

  
_

**Author's Note:** Hey guys. Long-ass, information saturated chapter because I'm refusing to deviate from my outline anymore or this story will never end. Also, I'm always striving to include SOME Squinoa content with every update, so closing with the Nida/Rinoa scene would have sucked. Warning, rating will change to Mature next chapter. Though I don't write full-on lemons because I suck at it (nothing is a worse story killer than a bad sex scene), I do like to heavy imply things and younger readers should be warned.

Greatly looking forward to the next few chapters! Hope you are too :D. Please review with any questions since I figured some things may have been a bit complicated, especially considering the breaks between my updates. Thanks as always for your support.


	16. Abandon

_"Hope never abandons you; you abandon it."_

**- George Weinberg**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 16: …_Abandon_ …

_ She could never have imagined that it would end like this._

_ Not with her being here. Not with him being with her here._

_ How did this even happen? For the life of her, she couldn't retrace the steps..._

_ It hadn't even been that long ago (a few weeks maybe?) that she used to cringe following his every phrase; the distilled mixture of arrogance and apathy wafting off of him like a toxic perfume. Not to mention her own, admittedly, potent aroma of ineptitude and frivolity. _

_ He had begrudgingly accepted her presence solely due to his dedication to the job. And she had swallowed down the many urges to push him off a ledge (except for that one time in FH), if only because she had nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. His undeniable attractiveness did however sweeten the deal by a meager eight of a teaspoon, and the futile flirting was a welcome distraction from her dire circumstances. Like bowling on a sinking ship._

_ Still, theirs had always been a marriage of curiosity and, primarily, obligation. Not exactly the typical foundation for a great love story. _

_ And yet, they had ended up here. _

_ But maybe...maybe it wasn't an ending. _

_ Maybe here, in her borrowed student dorm room at Balamb Garden, well past midnight...here, they were in the midst of _beginning_._

_ "Is this real? Are you _real_?" She whispered into the dark, only to instantly regret it. "Sorry. S-stupid." She laughed, running long fingers through her hair in an attempt to push away the tingling clouds accumulating within the confines of her skull. Alas, it seemed the storm was here to stay, muddling her actions and words and any lame concept she may have once had of self-censorship. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Everything was a bright, fluffy gray with only the occasional and intense spark of lightning reminding her of why they had come here._

_ "It makes sense...to ask," he said after swallowing, he too seemingly having trouble forming the words. "I- I hope it is. Real."_

_ Rinoa laughed again. Not because it was funny, but because it didn't matter. And he grinned in response, taking a small step forward; a silent command to stop talking. It had never been his forte, and he had no desire to waste one more moment. _

_ Time. There was so little of it. Like sand slipping through the cracks of your fingers no matter how hard you tried to hold on. It could be delayed with water, quickened with heat. You could mold it into castles or armies or empires. Or, to a brave few, you could throw it to the wind and see where it goes. _

_ Squall Leonhart had never been one to willingly relinquish control, especially over his own destiny. In fact, the very idea of letting go had once downright terrified him. _

_ But standing here with her, tonight, in the dark...the idea didn't seem so scary. _

_ He felt her move before he saw it. Fingers slowly climbing up either side of his jacket zipper. Squall felt his mind attempt to become the predictable states of nervous, protective and antagonistic, but something else was overriding those once natural impulses. Something more primal than any of his carefully cultivated attributes._

_ Time. It was still slipping. He was now constantly aware of its flow, having come horrendously close to death more times than he could count on his fingers and toes combined. Here was a girl, a beautiful girl, with whom he felt...comfortable. Safe. A beautiful girl who was also, coincidentally, the only person on this planet that he truly trusted. And here she was, after having barely survived the war of the century, subtly offering herself to him._

_ One would have to be a complete idiot not to be tempted. The rushing of blood in his ears proved that he was no such idiot. _

_ Still, as she cautiously pawed at his fur collar, the more typical worries for any teenage male in this situation couldn't help but briefly bob to the surface. The fact that this was against the rules, that they hadn't known each other that long, that they hadn't prepared for or even discussed the potential consequences. Consequences that were rather binding according to Matron. _The curse of a sorceress and her chosen knight.

_ He opened his mouth to voice these reservations; to step up and be, if only for a minute, the intelligent and responsible adult he knew was buried somewhere beneath the haze of survival relief, pubescent animalism and champagne. But instead, despite the mass of mental red flags coercing him to keep back, he soon found that he was kissing her. _

_ Hungrily kissing her. With absolutely no sense of shame or propriety. His body had seemed to make the decision for him; an instinctual reflex, deeming the as-soon-as-possible follow through of this act to be more important than any of the silly brain's concerns. Squall wanted to be annoyed at having so easily succumbed, but he was denied even that as other sensation rushed in to occupy every spare synapse. _

_ Rinoa was kissing him back. Rinoa was pressing herself against him. Rinoa was trying to pull his jacket off. He had one hand in Rinoa's hair. The other was on Rinoa's waist. His tongue was suddenly in Rinoa's mouth. It was surreal. His senses were filled with and overwhelmed by all that was Rinoa._

_ She felt like the softest of surfaces, a hybrid of silk, chocobo feathers and pleasant dreams. _

_ She smelled of vanilla and lavender and honey and freshly baked cookies and clean forest air and hope._

_ Her taste couldn't be explained, but it gave him a new appreciation of tasting. _

_ She was everything, the key ingredients of every fantasy he never knew he had. He realized then three significant facts regarding their situation:_

_ 1. That he was very, very drunk. _

_ 2. That this, so far, felt very, very good. So good in fact, that he never wanted to stop. That he would do anything to keep feeling like this. _

_ and 3. That this could go no further, and could never, ever happen again. _

_ He found the will to pull away as soon as her fingers began to tug on the tips of his gloves, knowing that she wanted to feel his bare hands as they progressed. It would have been the point of no return, had she succeeded. For skin to skin there existed a magnetism that even he hadn't the strength to resist._

_ "Stop," he whispered hoarsely. Uttering this simple plea had the equivalent effect of having his teeth pulled while being simultaneously punched in the gut. Not surprisingly, it fell onto deaf ears. _

_ He couldn't blame her. For a second, the same desperation that inspired him to follow her here almost regained control. After all, time was so precious. And she was so very soft. And warm. And luscious. And he had never encountered anyone or anything that he had at any point dared to describe as "luscious". What was the worst that could happen?_

What **will** happen?

Pain. Blood. Death. War. Having no control, ever again. A goddess and her mere slave. Becoming Seifer.

The end of the world.

_ "__**Stop**__." He pushed her away then, more violently than intended, so that she fell back into her desk and knocked over most of its contents. Instantly, he regretted it. But it had been the only choice, the only way. _

_ "I-I'm sorry..." he stuttered, eyes glued to the floor. The sound of her shuffling to right herself was harmonized by her deep breathing, obviously still in shock. _

_ "Squall-"_

_ "I...I can't do this. Not now. I'm...I've had too much- It's too fast. I- I can't-"_

_ "Shhh," she arrived at his side so quickly, he could swear that she flew; an observation which spurred a new vow of never drinking again. "It's okay! I'm fine! It's okay..." _

_ A warm hand placed itself on his neck only to instantly stiffen, remembering that it was her ignorance of boundaries that had led to this breakdown. She began to pull away, but his gloved hand quickly reached up and tugged her back into position, holding her palm to his cheek. Needing the reassurance of her touch._

_ It was enough to give him the confidence to meet her eyes at last, knowing she deserved an explanation. Even though he had only a rather pitiable one to offer._

_ "I-I don't want it to happen like this..." he stuttered lamely, fully bracing himself for a groan of frustrated anger, or perhaps laughter at his lack of masculinity, maybe even a few sobs after having somehow shattered her confidence via this rejection. _

_ But Rinoa only smiled. Understanding and, perhaps, even a little grateful. _

_ In her head, what she and Squall had gone through during the Ultimecia affair had formed the basis of something strong and lasting. And despite the mutual awareness of slipping time, there was no rush. And so she kissed him , lightly, and only on the cheek so as not to reignite that amazingly uncontrollable desperation. Confident still that it would be just as good, maybe even better, after a few nights rest, relaxation and detoxification. Or, ideally, only one night._

_ "We should get some sleep," she whispered while pulling away. "It's been one hell of a night."_

_ "It's been one hell of a week," Squall corrected her with a nervous smirk, referring to the terrifying amount of time spent wandering Ultimecia's castle and the timeless void beyond. _

_ "It's been many hells for the past several years, indeed." _

_ They both laughed meekly at that, scarred by the bitter truths of their unconventional childhoods and danger-filled youths. But that was all in the past now. Tonight had created a new marker point in the timeline of their lives, after which they would never again be forced or feel the need to wander off alone. _

_ Tonight, finally, they had both found home. _

_ "Can you stay?" she asked. _

_ Without thinking, Squall nodded. _

_ She led him by the hand toward the bed, kicking off her shoes as she went. He did the same when she released him in order to unbutton her blue coat, dropping it to the floor before crawling under the covers. _

_ He joined her cautiously, not daring to remove any article of clothing, not even his jacket, seeing as he was unable to avoid/resist draping his arm around her in the small, single cot and pulling her towards him. Within the confines of his arms, she rolled around. Glassy eyes, almost black in this dim light, stared up at him with more passion and reverence than he could have ever imagined. Especially directed toward him. _

_ He stared back for a while, remembering all the times he had seen these same eyes, this same face, and yet hadn't experienced a relative ounce in comparison to the metric ton of emotions they currently invoked. It was weird how that worked. How this _random_, annoying girl who had forced him to dance was now, just a few short weeks later, the very center of his universe. You'd think such things would have to be planned in advance. You'd think the fates, had they been kind, would have produced a bright neon sign stating: _"she can be the happiness you so desperately seek! Take her now! Save her from becoming a sorceress!"_._

_ And maybe they had, in a way, tried to warn him. Maybe the fact that she had caught his eye on the night of the ball, out of all the beautiful girls present, out of his solid seventeen-year record of ignoring any and all such baser impulses, should have been telling enough. He had just been too self-involved to notice. They had blessed him with love at first sight, a miracle on its own, and he had shrugged it off as a moment of insanity. _

_ For that especially, for all it had led to, Squall would never be able to forgive himself. _

_ "Sooo..." Rinoa interrupted his thoughts, willing to give him his time, but completely unable to remain silent for so long while in this intimate position. "What happens now?"_

_ Unable to fathom any sort of optimistic response, Squall chose to mask his anguish by leaning into a lingering, though relatively innocent, kiss. Making sure to take the time to savor it. Rinoa mewed softly; audible proof of her genuine contentment, causing his heart to contract tightly within his chest. _

_ This was to be the last time, after all. And so it was only after a bizarrely long while, after he was certain that his tone would not reveal the heart-breaking purpose to his words, that he finally pulled away. _

_ "Tomorrow." He promised while settling back down into their shared pillow and closing his eyes. "We can start again, tomorrow."_

_ "Tomorrow," Rinoa agreed, her voice breathless. Slowly, she nuzzled her head into his chest and coaxed herself into sleep - eager as she was for morning and the ecstasy it would bring. _

_ But the next day, Rinoa woke up alone. _

_ And so began another year in a freshly constructed level of their personal hells._

_

* * *

_

The next day, as usual, as it had always been since that night following their return from Ultimecia, Rinoa woke up alone.

Well, not _exactly _alone.

She awoke to the sound of someone quite fervently knocking on her studio door. _Banging_ would in fact be a more appropriate word. Or perhaps pounding. Pounding with what seemed to be one fists, one boot as well as some sort of mallet.

"RINOA!" came a muffled yet painfully shrill voice from the other side, telling of only one petite owner. "_I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!_ _WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE_-"

With a groan, the sorceress rolled over and brought the sheet over her head. Only to notice that she wasn't using a proper sheet at the same time as she hit the leg of her mother's piano with her face.

"**Son of a**-!"

"_AHA! I HEARD THAT! OPEN THIS FREAKIN' DOOR_!"

A string of muttered curses later and she begrudgingly began shuffling herself out from under the instrument, dragging along the pile of furniture protection pads that she had been using as bed-wear. It wasn't the most graceful of risings, but it surely fit the circumstances, as well as her current mood.

For a quick scan of the space confirmed that Squall and any traces of his presence were, of course, nowhere to be found. A fact that was in no way surprising and yet, somehow, still disappointing.

She took a deep breath, then another. Reminding herself that she had signed up for this. The deal was one night, morning not necessarily included. And now was not a convenient moment to fall into despair while quibbling over semantics.

"I'm up Selphie!" she called toward to door, rubbing the gunk out of her eyes and stifling a sob through a yawn. "Just...just give me a minute."

On weak and shaky legs, she pulled herself to her feet with the help of the piano and began the search for her clothing, or at least enough of it to be suitable for answering the door. Her black tank top was found scrunched into a ball by the foot of the bench, and as she bent to pick it up she couldn't help but be assaulted by memories of how it had arrived there.

He had tugged at its hem for a while, too respectful to do anything else. She remembered the touch of his cool fingers on her stomach, causing her to wince then giggle. Then being kissed forcefully into silence, the trailing chilly digits traveling upward beneath the fabric. Slow and sweet and agonizing and perfect. Almost too perfect. Then again, he was in her head, as she had been in his. Perfect was easy in such unique conditions. Conditions that would never occur again...

"_RINOA! What the heck are you doing, the crossword?_"

The memory fumbled and dropped, to both her relief and annoyance. Dress now, brood later. Brood for the remainder of your pathetic and lonely life. Keep the memory clean. Keep it perfect. Keep it in yesterday, where it belonged.

"Geez, relax!" She pulled the tank top over her head and moved toward her jean shorts near the computer terminal. "I said just give me a minute!"

_"Oh for the love of...Like__** I**__, of all people, have the TIME to just..." _

There was a series of mysterious clicks and clanks and then suddenly a blur of yellow, brown and grey was striding into her studio, mere milliseconds after she had pulled the shorts past her hips.

"Selphie! What the _hell_!" Rinoa's instant reaction was to panic. Before even doing up the snaps of her fly, she leapt over to the piano and tried to veil some of the evidence as quickly and "casually" as possible. Though it probably would have been much less suspicious to not react at all, her sleep-deprived mind had automatically translated every little item Squall had touched into blatant and highlighted proof of their night together.

Those scratches on the hard wood floor could be from his nails, so she kicked over a furniture pad to cover them. But then that made more obvious the stains on the fabric, most likely formed through years of use, but _could_ be biological. And so she tried to fold them with her foot. The lid of the piano itself was a mess of music pages with its glossy surface marred by hand (and other parts) prints, both large and small. And so she worked to scatter the sheets to cover a larger service, all the while feeling increasingly guilty at the disrespect they had shown her mother's favorite instrument.

If Squall had bothered the stick around, when the afterglow dwindled, she probably would have kicked him in the head upon discovering this. It was his doing after all, she having been struck dumb by his sudden arrival and the notion of his intentions. This, every ounce of dread and indignity and remorse she was currently experiencing had been born of his desperation, newfound alcoholism and perpetual, infuriating beauty.

Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't come over last night. Regardless of this morning's embarrassment, what if by complete lottery-odds luck, she found someone new in the future? How would he compare to a man who had not only been named one of the top five sexiest Bachelors of Power (a tacky magazine article everyone worked hard for Squall to never see), but a lover who could read her every impulse and respond with an uncanny level of swiftness and fervor? How could she ever be touched again, and not compare it to the _frenzy_ that had been last night?

She couldn't, that's how. As cliché as it was to admit, Squall Leonhart - though aided by a supernatural connection - had almost certainly ruined all other men for her. Probably forever. An inevitable realization she had only been slightly aware of when he kissed her over a year ago, validated after getting as close as two people could possibly get. Both physically and mentally. One night, morning not even included, had sentenced her to a lifetime of mounting dissatisfaction.

Hardly a fair trade, and definitely an idiotic _choice_.

Rinoa sighed, kicking at the thick padding with mounting aggression. Less than two minutes of consciousness, and she was already intensely regretting the, admittedly mutual, decision. A time frame that had to represent some kind of record. Excluding one-night stands with unsightly strangers. But at present there were greater evils to focus on. One of which was, luckily, too over burdened with stuff to notice any of her odd behavior.

"Selphie. Just because you _can_, doesn't mean you have the right to just-"

"Yeah, yeah. Respect your privacy, blah blah. Not my fault the security here is so shoddy. " Selphie tossed a plastic dry cleaning bag, shoe box , water bottle and lock pick onto the couch and then turned to glare at her friend. "Do you have _any_ idea what time it is? In fact, do you remember at all what _day_ it-" but the words disintegrated on her lips.

In all her paranoia, Rinoa hadn't stopped to consider that it was _she_ that was the most blatant piece of evidence, as proven by her friend's stare. She felt her stomach dropping down to her feet as she, oh so casually of course, reached one hand up to flatten her tousled hair and the other to smooth down her wrinkled top.

Both efforts were in vain.

"What?" Rinoa eventually asked, her voice a few awkward decimals higher than usual.

Selphie's expression could only be described as one quarter grimace, one quarter gawk and one half on-the-cusp-of-dying-of-laughter. It was as good as any mirror to prove how ragged she had become, though voicing it to deepen the sting was inescapably tempting.

"You sure chose a hell of a day to give yourself the 'I-lack-mental-stability' makeover, didn't ya?" the girl quipped, spurring her friend into rolling her eyes.

Today was not the right day for teasing.

"Ha. Ha. Good one. You're hilarious. Now go away." Considering the damage done, Rinoa moved to collect the rest of her clothing; another rather conspicuous form of proof that she had somehow neglected.

But of course the SeeD chose to blatantly ignore the request for solitude, taking a position on the couch while fiddling with the various items she had brought in. The clicking of her lock pick being opened and shut repeatedly echoed throughout the space, and Rinoa could feel the girl's unblinking, acid-green eyes boring into her as she silently worked.

Still, no words were spoken. Quite a feat for anyone having discovered a friend in such as state, let alone the mastermind behind Garden's most popular gossip blog. It was at the point when she had to extricate her tangled bra from _inside_ the piano, that Selphie's silence became too creepy to bear.

"Okay. I give up." Having finally freed the item, Rinoa whipped the bra at her companion in an attempt to break her trance. Also just in case she hadn't realized yet what the garment was and what it's unusual placement may symbolize. "Why are you here? What do you want to know?"

Selphie, still annoyingly unmoved by the attack, only shrugged. "Just...hanging out...waiting for you to realize..."

"Realize what?"

The SeeD leaned forward in her seat, eyes narrowed. Rinoa mirrored the action over the piano, her expression puzzled.

After a few seconds, Selphie's eyebrows rose. Then she gave a quick nod toward the large, digital clock on the wall.

8:12 it stated in its bright red glow.

It was then that she violently remembered.

"Annnnnnd...?" Selphie coaxed as she noted her counterpart's widened eyes.

"Crap. Crap! **CRAP**!"

"There we go!"

"Why did you let me...why didn't you...oh Hyne, I am _so_ late!"

It was twelve minutes past eight. The World Council Video Conference had started twelve minutes ago. The Council meeting that was meant to confirm her placement as Publicity Consultant in a brand new Angelica Policy. A policy that would, finally, release her as Balamb Garden's prisoner with Nida as her companion and Squall staying behind.

Her initial reaction to this news, surprisingly, wasn't an increased sense of panic. It was anger.

"That _asshole_!"

"Now, now. Relax. I've got you covered." The eerily calm version of Selphie strode forward and deposited her wares on the piano lid. The dry cleaning was Rinoa's single grey suit and in the box were her blue heeled shoes, items that had been locked away in her mess of a closet in the far away student dorms.

She opened her mouth to the thank the girl for "robbing" her, but then thought better of it as she yanked the clothes free of their plastic prison. Rewarding such an invasion probably wasn't the best of ideas after all, and something in Selphie's eyes seemed to assert the fact that, at some point, this favor would be repaid.

With interest.

In the mean time, she had to focus on getting dressed, somehow looking presentable, and getting to the third floor. Ideally within negative twelve minutes.

Crouching behind the piano for some semblance of privacy, Rinoa yanked her tank top over her head at the same time as her discarded bra came flying back at her from above. In a record five seconds, she was shirted.

"Damn! I can't find my-" a disembodied hand came hovering over the edge of the polished wood before she could finish. One pair of black cotton underwear dangling from its finger.

Hastily, Rinoa snatched it, mumbling a mortified "thanks" before kicking her shorts free and slipping them on.

"So...I take it Squall's the 'asshole'?"

Savior or not, Selphie was still Selphie. And she had no intention of relinquishing her prisoner without a few facts to satiate until the pending interrogation.

Fortunately, there were many reasons why Squall was an asshole. In fact, back when she was working for him, he wore the label hourly.

"Of course he is," she muttered with attempted calm, shaking her clean skirt open and jabbing one leg through. "He must have known I was here working, the walls aren't entirely sound proof. And yet he didn't think to check that I was awake before going upstairs! So yeah, that was kind of an _asshole_ move on his part." All buttons buttoned, she pushed herself to her feet and raked her hair a few times with her fingers. "It would have taken him _five_ seconds. Five_ measly _seconds. I'm right next door. But no. Nothing. No matter how important this day was for me. And now I get to face the world leaders looking like I just came out of a barn!"

"Or at the very least had one crazy roll in the hay."

Rinoa gave her the benefit of a slight smirk, not one to let a good turn-of-phrase go unappreciated.

"But just so you know," Selphie began, her eyes slowly and somewhat maliciously roaming around the room. "Squall's been upstairs in his office for hours, probably all night, trying to catch up for his first day back as Commander. So you can't blame him for not being your alarm clock."

"Oh...okay then. I'll...keep that in mind."

In a few yanking/hopping movements, the tight skirt was pulled past her hips and the blouse tucked in.

"Okay," she breathed after zipping the back up and grabbing the last two articles and her heels. "I can do the rest on the way. Go!"

She was out in the hallway with the blue-silk tie between her teeth and one arm through the vest before Selphie had a chance to make any more comments regarding the strange state of the studio. For there was no arguing with what had so obviously happened last night, and she hadn't the energy to come up with a believable fib. It was unsure whether she was more disturbed by idea of potentially getting caught with Squall or by the fact that Selphie obviously thought she had had some other salacious affair in the studio. Probably with the apparent intentions of having him _hear _her through the walls to ignite a jealous rage.

Whatever.

It would be yet another interesting yet completely infeasible entry on the blog which no one actually read for the sake of truth. And she had much, much bigger issues to deal with at the moment. Namely how she would restrain herself from strangling the man once she entered the meeting. Not only for failing to wake her up or set any type of alarm or send someone to check on her, but for already ruining the so far perfect memory of their one and only night together.

For letting her wake up alone...**again**.

Not only alone, but naked and with Selphie banging on the door.

Despite all efforts, Rinoa felt her eyes begin to burn as she sprinted down the circular hallway toward to elevators. She allowed herself one sob, only one, before picking up the pace and blinking her eyes dry.

This would be the last time she would cry over Squall Leonhart, she promised herself.

He simply wasn't worth it anymore.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yet again, despite my wanting to stick to a strict storyline of chapters, this one ended up being twenty-three pages long! So I split it, with the second half coming soon. Faster depending on reviews :P.

As some of you know, I currently have 3 ongoing stories on , thus explaining my slowness of updates. Two I hope to finish soon so that I can concentrate on the long, epic journey that is my plan for "Possession". Thank you, as always, for your support.

- May


	17. Progression

_Hey everybody. A general consensus with reviewers is that if I'm gonna have a complicated storyline, I better have more frequent updates so that people don't get lost. Got the message! So while I'm struggling to close up my two other fics, in the mean time I'll post convenient little re-caps at the beginning of chapters AS WELL as force myself to update at least once a month. Hope that helps re-animate things, as this fic is my favorite to write. Here's a long-ass one to begin with. **Skip if you remember everything**._

POSSESION RE-CAP: Story is set a year after Ultimecia. Squall has since hired Rinoa as his personal secretary, but refuses to move any farther in their romantic relationship under the excuse of "things are still too hectic, government-wise". A research trip to Odin's Tower ends badly when Rinoa accidentally shoots him while testing out her gun blade skills. After barely surviving thanks to a transfusion from Rinoa, he is confined to a wheel chair and treats all students and staff horribly until Quistis forces him onto sick leave. Rinoa, in the mean time, has discovered that Squall had been following the instructions of a World Council "Angelica Policy" which forbids him from engaging her romantically, but asks that he keep her "distracted" for at least a ten year period - it is based on a theory of Odine's that sorceresses depend on their Knights and can never leave them as long as they _imply_ a future together. For the past year, they had all been tricking her into being willingly confined to Garden, using Squall as the bait. She promptly quits as his assistant, wishing to serve her jail-time without bothering her "actor" friends.

Later, Squall reveals to her that the Policy was a mere joke to satiate the paranoid Council while he tried to figure out a way they can co-exist normally. A development he never told her about, was that recently he is able to hear her thoughts when they are close. Though annoyed at the invasion of her privacy, Squall had always been comforted and inspired by the fact that he knew for certain that she had no "world domination" plans. He informs her that he had discovered the existence of a past sorceress and knight, Odin and Elisha, who were somehow able to live out their lives together without any bloodshed. His goal for the past year has been to figure out how they managed to do it: be together, and not succumb to the inevitable urge for power. For now though, they have to keep away from one another. It's too dangerous. He's already been having nightmares disguised as fantasies of them taking over, cutting down anyone who dare to question their relationship. He's horrified by how appealing the visions are.

Meanwhile; Quistis, feeling bad for Rinoa, starts a petition to reformat the Policy. Though they wish that she remain under Garden care for both her safety and the wishes of the Council, she has recommended that Rinoa rotate within all four Gardens as a hostess, organizer and music writer to each of their distinctive Festivals. Squall doesn't like the plan, even though he has been offered the position of "Garden Captain" which would involve him touring all four Gardens with her to coordinate their affairs. He doesn't trust anyone outside Balamb. But if he doesn't accept the job, Nida will: her new closest friends due to the fact that he inspires her to stop moping and make something of herself.

In an attempt to bribe her into staying, while on sick leave Squall builds her a recording studio next door to his private suite. Though grateful, she still refuses to stay, needing to get outside, live her life a little and prove to the world that she has no other desires except for making music. Desperate, he kisses her and they notice a new light flowing from her into him, which he explains as "Odine was wrong!" before running away. Later that night, after getting his cast removed, doing some research and training, Squall announces to her that its better for them both if she goes and he stays at Balamb. It will be made official at the World Council video conference the following morning.

The light that occurred at the height of his weakness only served to prove that they were unnaturally linked, and that he depended on HER for power, not vice versa. His research, through smashing a locket found at Odin's tower, revealed a note that explains why Odin chose to become such a strange GF: it was a method of protecting his sorceress only when she needed it, without them being able to negatively influence one another. Though the magic has since been lost, it seems the only solution is for them to live apart, him supporting her as best as he can from afar through his government work. Odin's sorceress, Elisha, later became a painter, married and adopted children. Proving that she was able to move on but not regenerate the curse of knighthood onto someone else since Odin was still technically filling the role. Squall wishes that same future for Rinoa, even though it will end with him dying miserable and alone.

After having a few drinks to drown his misery, Squall is unable to resist visiting Rinoa in her studio next door. He only wanted to say goodbye, but they end up deciding they need a proper, one night farewell. If only to expel any last regrets and release built up stress.

The next day, Rinoa wakes up alone with Selphie screaming at her that she's late for the meeting. Their farewell night worked perfectly, as Rinoa now feels nothing other than a need to get away from him as she heads to the meeting to approve the re-drafted Angelica Policy, with Nida acting as her new guardian.

* * *

"_I __deal__ with temptation by yielding to it."_

**- Mark Twain**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 16: …_Progression_ …

By the time Rinoa reached the elevator, the shoes were on, the vest buttoned and she was struggling to remember how the hell to do a tie when Selphie managed to throw herself in through the narrow gap of the doors closing. Seeing as all Garden residents knew very well that the building's ancient engineering had a reputation of smashing more than one student's hand, this feat proved how bizarrely dedicated she was toward scandal reporting.

"You couldn't hold it for me?" the SeeD huffed with a hand clasped to her heaving chest. "The girl who probably just saved your behind from being held in contempt?"

Rinoa cleverly choose to ignore her, all mental capacity focused on biting down a variety of emotional outbursts while trying to dredge up the sing-song mantra for knot tying. Something about rabbits, around the tree, in the hole...

"Uraggggaahhh..." she grumbled to the material, tugging apart the lopsided bow that had somehow been produced. It was impossible. She simply couldn't focus. And it wouldn't matter anyway, no matter how presentable she was upon arriving. The meeting had started a full fifteen minutes ago. The new Angelica Policy was probably in the midst of being shredded, as punishment for her disrespect and obvious disdain for the world leaders and their precious time.

And it was all because that..._man..._that _jerk_ was too cowardly to look her in the eye afterward. She was to be imprisoned here for a decade, job-less and love-less, just because he didn't care enough to stick around. Or better yet, he didn't care enough to leave her alone from the beginning.

"Here," Selphie interjected with a step forward, somehow sensing her anxiety "let me do it. You try to sort out that rat's nest you call hair."

Using her invasive powers for good this time, Selphie pried the tie ends from her friend's tense fingers and got to work. Unaware that kind actions, her uncharacteristic silence, may very well have prevented a full-on panic attack.

Rinoa tried to thank her, but knew it would only come out as a choked rasp. So she worked on the already lost battle of her tangled tresses.

In the thirty seconds it took to reach the third floor, with the SeeD's help, her tie was done, suit cleared of any obvious lint, and in a spurt of ingenuity with one of the elastics Selphie happened to have on her wrist, they had her hair pulled back into what they hoped to be considered a glamorously messy chignon.

A bit of lip balm and it was as good as it was gonna get.

"Now may not be a good time," her unwilling assistant said breathlessly as they jogged down the third floor corridor, past the offices of the elite "but you do know that you now owe me. Big time."

"First born child. All yours. Promise." No need to remind her of sorceress infertility.

"Heh. Nice try. We're having dinner, tonight at 8. Don't 'sleep' through it, k?" she winked at this, and Rinoa rolled her eyes. All too soon, the doors of the conference room came into view, spurring Selphie to fall back as she did not have proper clearance. "PS: I told them all that you were feeling sick, thus the lateness. You look the part. Good luck!"

"I'm sorry!" Rinoa burst through the doors, tripping over the threshold into a deep bow so abruptly that it made her hair come loose.

From behind her, she heard Selphie wince before the doors swung shut, trapping her within the room of dead silence.

"I-I meant no disrespect! I was simply...I didn't get enough sleep last-"

"Ms. Heartily! I'm glad you're feeling well enough to join us!" said a teasing, electronic voice. One that was pleasantly familiar.

Tentatively, she lifted her head, tossing aside the mound of hair to take in the entire space: sixteen large LCD screens were glaring down at her, each showing a suited man or woman. Most were regarding her with concern, but a pleasant amount were showing smiles or blatant chuckles. Better they find her amusing than insulting. The Executive World Council, one for every territory, major city and Garden.

"T-thank you. President Loire. Again, I'm so very very sorry to keep you-"

"My dear, we do all have more important thing to do, so please sit down so that we can get on with our lives," said a rather chubby looking man on one of the right hand screens. The new Prime Minister of Dollet.

"Yes. Yes of course. So sorry."

She joined the Balamb representatives at the of end of a long, rectangular table. Cid, Quistis, Xu, Squall and Nida. All except the headmaster were in perfectly pressed uniforms, perfectly groomed and perfectly postured.

Nida flashed her a quick grin for support. But Squall, the surprisingly clean, shaven and professional looking Squall, kept his eyes on his papers.

"Well," Quistis began, pushing her spectacles up on her nose and clearing her throat. "We're all very busy people so let's get to it. This is a vote to approve the _draft_ of the new Angelica Policy, which illustrates the surveillance and restriction of activities of one Rinoa Heartilly also known as the last living sorceress (hereby referred to as party A) by the World Council (hereby referred to as party B).

"All parties have examined and accepted the proposed terms and agreed to contracting Party A under Garden observation in a seasonal rotation between the four sections as Publicity Consultant. Party A has approved of these terms and concedes to regular physiological testing, asking only that surveillance of her personal quarters be removed as supported by the bill of human rights article 2.17. Objections?"

She paused, her eyes scanning the screens as if daring anyone to protest.

"Good." she licked her fingers and turned the page. "Party A will be accompanied by a military official instated in the newly created position of Captain to all Gardens. This post will be filled by one Squall Leonhart, rank A SeeD, identification; Sierra, Lima, two, seven, Alfa -"

"Wait! What?" Rinoa whipped her head to Nida. "What?" then to Squall, who's eyes were still glued on his copy of the contract. "_What!"_

"Miss Heartily..." Quistis said in a near growl, fixing her with that icy blue stare that had turned many much braver people into a puddle of nerves.

There was no other choice but to sit down and shut up. So she did just that.

The co-headmistress cleared her throat again, then continued as if nothing odd had at all happened. "Identification: Sierra, Lima, two, seven, Alfa, niner, one..."

As she droned on, Rinoa couldn't help but be preoccupied. Had she heard correctly? Had Quistis actually just said that Squall would be the one to come with her on the rotations? It had sure sounded like it. But it could have easily been just her brain playing tricks. Mean, mean tricks.

She tried to get an answer from Nida, but he was concentrated on Quistis' every word, back into the dedicated SeeD mode she almost never saw in him. Cid and Xu too seemed overly focused on the Council members, perhaps searching for signs of hesitance or distrust. All of them, everyone in this room, had put many hours into getting her this chance. And here she couldn't even give them the benefit of her attention for a whole five minutes.

Her eyes moved again to Squall, willing him to meet her gaze, trying futilely to push through his mental blockade and retrieve the answer she so desperately sought.

She was still staring at him, brows furrowed in concentration, when she felt something violently prod at her shoulder.

Xu, nodding toward Quistis, her eyes wide and panicked.

"Hmm?" when she looked up, the entire Council, including most of the Balamb SeeD representatives, were staring down at her non-too-patiently. Obviously waiting for something.

"Uhh..." with an expression of complete and utter embarrassment, she straightened herself up in her seat, needlessly adjusting her tie. "I...I didn't hear...the question?"

If looks could kill, Quistis would pull it off.

"Party A, are you in favor?"

"What?"

"Just say 'aye' if you agree to all this."

"Oh! Umm...Aye. Sorry. Aye, of course. Aye to the infinity!...Heh…"

"Party B," her head whipped to the screens. "Esteemed World Council, are you in favor?"

A resounding and unanimous 'aye'.

"I hereby declare that the Angelica Policy version 2.3 has been approved."

Rinoa felt her heart lift up into her throat.

"Thank you! Thank you all so, so-"

"I'm not done"

"Oh. Sorry."

Rinoa had a feeling that Quistis was one mistake away from whipping her, and she honestly wouldn't blame the woman.

"Version 2.3 has been approved for _publishing_. The final release will be accepting signatures for accreditation at the next summit gathering on August 27th of this calendar year. As a result of the Policy application, I also hereby declare that on that same date SeeD Squall Leonhart will be sworn in as Garden Captain and SeeD Nida Aldran as Balamb Commander. Congratulations. And we're adjourned," she took a deep breath, flipping her papers closed with a flourish. "See you in a month gentlemen."

The members let loose a modest round of applause, the loudest and most exuberant of which was Laguna Loire, before the screens began to shut down one by one.

"I look forward to seeing-" the Estharian president was cut off by Squall striding over and manually switching his feed off. It was a rather brisk response from the usually indifferent man, not that Rinoa had the brain capacity to think much of it at the time. Just Squall being tactless Squall, reacting offensively to unwanted chit-chat.

Squall the SeeD who had just accepted a position as Garden Captain. A job that entailed following her around the world. A job he had most adamantly implied he wouldn't be taking only a few hours previously. The decision which had led to a night of desperate passion, thinking it to be the last opportunity.

This...this changed everythi-...

"Woohoo!" burst Nida once the last screen had faded to black. He jumped out of his seat and had her in his arms before she had a chance to finish her thought. "Congrats Rinoa! You're free! You're officially FREE! And Quistis," he twisted to peek at the blonde over his shoulder as she moved to approach them. "You are AWESOME. It's just amazing seeing you in action and I look forward to working more closely with you."

If she had intended to chew Rinoa out, she lost the will once he fixed her with that smile. So few people complimented, well, _seriously_ complimented her work ethic. And it was her job, more than her looks were or would ever be, which was the true fuel to her ego.

"Why thank you Commander Aldran. The feeling is mutual."

"Commander...geez. It's so surreal isn't it?" he brought her into a hug once more, and she couldn't help but notice, for the first time in a long while, his touch wasn't cooling. In fact, she didn't feel fevered at all anymore.

"_I'm glad it turned out like this_," he whispered once Cid and Xu's chatter began to fill the silence around them. "_As much as a hard-ass as he is, I know he'll take care of you. I can tell. We'll always be friends Rinoa. Remember_-"

"When did he tell you?" she interrupted, straining to keep her voice level and low.

"What?"

"About accepting Captain. When did he tell you?"

"Oh. Umm. Around six am Quistis sent all the elites an email. Who knows when he told her. I mean-

"Six am?" she interrupted in a quiet hiss, flabbergasted. That must have been mere minutes after she had fallen asleep. Which meant he must have notified Quistis even earlier with the decision already made, probably whilst they were still...together. She tried to remember any hint of his mind having changed, of his movements becoming more smooth than desperate. But nothing came to mind. It had all been too overwhelming, banishing her to another, far-away world where reality and logic disintegrated. And, apparently, she hadn't been the only one to lose some sense.

How the hell did he expect her to move on now? And, more importantly, why had he felt the need to inform Quistis, of all people, before the girl sleeping beside him? The girl for which this decision significantly changed things?

With a quiet groan, Rinoa let her head fall onto Nida's shoulder, conveniently hiding her grimace. "An email...That was it? Did Quistis tell you when he told her? Did he explain why the last minute change? Was he-"

"**Squall**! Hey buddy." Nida said the name as an overly-enthusiastic exclamation, signaling that their subject was currently standing right behind her.

Hesitantly, she removed herself from the sanctuary of Nida's arms and turned, looking Squall in the eye for the first time since he had been hovering above her, his expression primal, smelling of liquor and ash and sweat. No one would have been able to guess that that had only been a few short hours ago. Probably less than two-hundred minutes.

The Squall standing in front of her now was a military officer, the same apathetic and disciplined persona she had worked with for a year, except with shorter hair. A fighter, far from a lover. Far from the typical person who would easily fall prey to the temptations of wine, women and song.

No. Not him. Never. Especially not all in one night.

"So, I see you've got your cast removed. Congrats!" Nida said after the silence had gone on a bit longer than comfortable. "Rinoa, did you notice?"

A sudden vision assaulted her of what were unmistakably her fingers tracing the raised, scarred flesh of a naked thigh's bullet wound.

"Rinoa?"

"Huh?" Both Squall and Nida were staring at her, puzzled, yet the former had a certain mischievous glint in his eye that made her relatively certain that the images hadn't come from her head.

She fixed him with glower, completely flustered despite all attempts of normality. "No actually, I hadn't noticed. The cast. Cause, you know, I only ever see him...in pants."

The perplexed stares continued, Squall and Nida actually sharing one, as if they _both _were wondering where the awkwardness had come from.

Two could play at this game.

"But yes. Congrats." She tossed her tangled hair out of her eyes and leaned a hand into her hip. "You must be excited to...you know, exercise again?"

Another memory, but this one she controlled.

Squall's eye twitched, just a little, but it was enough to assure that justice was indeed served.

After all, he had started it.

The perceptive man that he was, Nida suddenly felt a powerful need to get far, far away from whatever was causing their furious glares. "I'm gonna go...start searching for my replacement. Can't command Garden if no one can drive it, heh." he joked, knowing that neither of them were really paying attention. "I'll see you tomorrow Rinoa. For festival work. Okay?"

She nodded but didn't remove her eyes from Squall's, waiting for him to let loose something, anything, any wandering thought fragment that may explain what made him change his mind. There were so many questions...

One by one, the rest of the representatives left the room. First Cid, congratulating her with a firm squeeze on the shoulder. Then Xu, mirroring Cid's exact gesture. And then Quistis, with a curt suggestion that she be a little more professional next time.

When they were finally alone, still he said nothing. Just kept staring at her.

A mere minute in and she couldn't take it anymore. And at the same moment, neither could he. But instead of opening his mind, or even his mouth, he choose to head toward the door. Following the path of his superiors and, for all she knew, disappearing into his office for the rest of the month.

"No. No. NO!" she yelled, stopping him in his tracks the second his hand touched the knob. "You can't pull a 'let's just pretend it never happened' with this one Squall! This-this wasn't just the night we came back from Time Compression. This! This was-"

"Rinoa," he interrupted with his authoritative voice. Her eyes flew to his, hoping for some revelation. But all he did was tilt his head towards her, his eyes shifting up, then back to her, then back to the door, and then he was exiting. Though very cryptic, her heart forced her to consider that maybe he was sending some type of message. And so her eyes tracked his previous path, up into the still blinking camera that had projected their image to the council members.

His message was suddenly obvious.

Not here. Not now. But somewhere else. And soon.

She followed him out the door.

By the time she rounded the bend, he was already in the elevator, letting the doors close only after their eyes met. The numbers counted down to the first floor and paused. Only then did she summon it back up to retrieve her.

Down in the Garden atrium, she caught sight of him talking to some nervous-looking cadets that had been lounging on one of the benches to her left, but excused himself when the tell-tale ding of the elevator doors closing echoed throughout the space. Their exclamations of shock at his pleasant mood inspired a proud smirk to her lips as she tracked him. Past the library, into the training center. Along the extended corridor, she still stayed at a respectable distance. Up until they entered the jungle itself and he lingered back a bit, sharing with her with his no-encounter ability.

A few careful jumps off the bridge and along a babbling brook, a rather difficult feat in heels, and they were safe under a watery stone outcrop. One of the mere four spots in all of Garden that he knew the surveillance system didn't reach.

She got right down to the point.

"What changed your mind?" she asked breathlessly, invigorated by the exercise and the soothing mist the waterfall created. As dangerous as this place was meant to be, it seemed like the perfect setting for a clandestine rendezvous. Like she has suddenly stepped out of a dreary, regular day at the office and into the pages of an exotic romance novel.

"...Things..." he answered after a nerve-wracking pause. "Events. Coffee spurred epiphanies."

"Last night?"

"Last night..." he laughed then, a full revitalizing laugh as he timidly ran a hand through his damp hair. Inexplicably happier and healthier looking than she had seen in nearly a year. "I had never...done that. I had never done anything _like_ that."

"I know." His eyes shyly began to wander away from her, nodding in understanding. "No! I didn't mean that I could _tell_ I just...I figured. And you thought it, I think. At some point. So, yeah. I heard..."

Her eyes also fell to her feet, pretending to be riveted by the way her dove grey suit was slowly becoming dark as the fabric absorbed the waterfall's spray.

Hyne this was awkward.

But good awkward. Wonderfully _normal_ awkward. Like they had been any two regular friends who ended up in each other's bed by forces they didn't recognize and didn't know how to act afterwards. And thanks to his decision to take Captain, avoiding one another and moving on just wasn't a possibility anymore.

In which case, she figured he deserved to know the truth regarding _her_ past.

"Speaking of...I guess I should tell you-"

"That for you it wasn't anything new. I know. I figured."

"You...figured?" Rinoa's gaze snapped back up, scanning him with narrowed brows. "What does that mean?"

"Well..." she watched, amused but still angry as he struggled to come up with a proper excuse. "You're beautiful. And-and outgoing."

"So that makes me easy?"

"No! Of course not! It's just...Wow." he ran a hand through his hair yet again, causing it to stick straight up thanks to the moisture. "This mind reading thing has become quite the nuisance, huh? Forget I said anything. Please." It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep the offended expression on her face. Especially since Squall had just, soberly and out loud, called her beautiful.

Hyne...what he did you her. Just with mere words. How had she ever thought she could give this up? That after today they could go their separate ways, find other lovers, find other dreams?

Like anyone could ever make her feel like he had. She wondered if he knew...wondered what other facts had leaked out into him while their minds and their bodies had been one.

"So...you heard about my past," she whispered nervously, taking an infinitesimal step closer across the slippery rocks. "What else did you hear?"

He swallowed loudly, the sound somehow reaching her ears even above the rush of the falls.

So he had heard something...something he just now seemed to be remembering.

_'Rinoa...'_

"Out loud," she commanded of him. "Tell me what I told you."

His lips pressed together as the memories assaulted him. At first fragments and sighs. Instructions and then commendations. Eventually, as he grew more confident, meager suggestions and commendations. Then, finally, nothing but praise. Nothing but oblivion.

He had forgotten.

"You said that it was better with me than with him," he informed her with an embarrassed yet proud chuckle. "Then, that it was the best. You said that, before me, you had never been able to-"

Rinoa slapped a hand over his mouth, rapidly blushing. She hadn't thought he would have been able to scrounge that much from her. "I know. We BOTH know. No need to get an ego now."

The vibrations of his laugh traveled down her arm and into her heart. No melody in the world would ever be as harmonious as this. She wanted it to surround her, to embrace her, to have it on infinite, looping repeat. Before she could properly consider her actions, if only to test how he would react, her hand was soon replaced by her lips. And though she wouldn't have been surprised if he pushed her away, for they hadn't discussed what this all meant, she was exceedingly glad when he didn't.

This wasn't the inhibited Squall of the celebration ball who had tentatively pressed his lips against hers. This wasn't the fantasy Squall and his cinnamon toothpaste, nor the broken Squall's whiskey and cigarette flavor. This Squall, the true version of him, the one with a fully open heart and surrendered fortifications, tasted of fire and tasted of ice.

He tasted like stars.

She was starting to burn again, and with every degree her temperature rose she felt herself getting that much more desperate to be near him. To have his refreshingly icy skin against hers. Everywhere. Inside and out.

It was decided then, without any spoken words, as he leaned in and pinned her against the rocky wall, the water completely soaking her through. Not that she cared, if anything it made it better.

_'This is stupid...'_ his annoyingly logical thoughts popped through, even though his hands weren't exactly supporting the conjecture by traveling from either side of her neck, pressing down the center groove of her chest. Random buttons mysteriously coming loose in their wake. _'Someone might see us.'_

_'Then be quick about it.'_ she found herself instructing.

He muttered a half chuckle/half moan against her lips, and didn't give the situation any more doubt.

This was happening.

He would no longer have any justification to berate Irvine and Selphie for their nefarious activities on the Ragnarok. For this was so much worse. At least, it would have been if the six-year-old cadet Caleb hadn't been so clumsy.

"Ow!"

Rinoa and Squall froze, both breathless and soaking wet, he with a hand hidden in her now open blouse and she with fingers wrapped around the two open ends of his uniform belt.

"Shhhh!" came the whispered voice of one of the junior classman instructors. A woman named Mrs. Hailey that he had hired only a few months ago. "Remember what I told you. We have to be very, very careful in here class. Watch where you step. If you want to see a Grat you have to stay close to me and the warden and not make a peep. Okay?"

She was answered by at least twenty gentle, tiny murmurs of acknowledgements. A field trip. A mere few paces from where they were standing, hidden only by a thin layer of foliage.

_'Shit!'_

Getting dressed and merely pretending they were out training wasn't an option. They were both drenched and weaponless. So instead, he yanked the two sides of her blouse closed as far as they could go, grabbed her hand and ran for the back of the maze.

"Look!" a shrill little voice called out as they unavoidably jostled some bushes and leaves. "I think I see-"

"Caleb! What did I say? Shh!"

After they had made it through the door to the forbidden/secret area, they both instantly fell to the ground laughing. Finding it somehow hilarious how close they had come to giving Hailey and the kids a _very_ detailed lesson in Garden wildlife.

And poor Caleb, having taken the bullet.

"We should get that kid some extra desserts or something," Rinoa insisted through her giggles. "Or maybe, when he's old enough, we can let him in on the secret spot."

"No way," Squall rebuked, lying back on one of the few unbroken pieces of cement in order to catch his breath. "I found that spot. I get to use it."

With an evil laugh, she fell down next to him. "Are you implying that we'll be trying that again in the next ten years?"

And there it was. An allusion to some future that neither of them knew existed yet. The laughter began to fade as they remembered what event had brought them there. Seeking privacy not for an encore of last night, but for having words away from still prying eyes and ears. Luckily, this place was his second spot in Garden he knew the cameras didn't reach. Just a little harder to get to and a little less structurally stable. Though one could argue that a T-rex breeding ground wasn't exactly 'safe' either, even with the encounter-none ability.

The corner in the Quad was too public, and the bathroom across from Cid's office too...wrong.

When he thought about it, there was in fact no single, completely safe (in every sense of the word) place to have this conversation. But it had to be done...

"I'm...sorry. About back there," she stuttered through an embarrassed chuckle, keeping her eyes on the bright blue sky above them. "I guess...I guess I'm afraid that it'll go away. That this is a trance that you'll snap out of. And it's fun...isn't it?" she turned to face his horizontal form, her head supported by her elbow. "I mean, it's...easy."

"Are you calling me easy?"

She laughed then, fully and brightly while slapping him on the shoulder. There was nothing quite as ridiculous as Squall attempting to be comical. For all his many vast talents, making puns and pickup lines and lame jokes should be left to Irvine.

"But seriously! Heh. No, seriously..." after a few breaths to expel the remaining giggles, she fixed him with what she hoped was a sober gaze. Even though, with the sunlight dancing on his pale skin, bringing out the usually invisible golden highlights of his hair, his eyes the same color as the sky, it was practically impossible not to smile. Just a little. "Tell me...what made you change your mind?"

_'And what does this mean for us...?'_

Squall sighed and brought his hands up to pillow behind his head, eyes scouring the few clouds as if searching for an answer. At least one that he could properly put into words.

"I think..." he licked his lips and debated whether to share this information. But some unknown source in his mind prodded him forward. "I think...Odin spoke to me."

At this Rinoa's lips parted in a soundless gasp. She pushed herself into a half sitting position so that she could get a better look at his face, almost expecting it to be another bad joke. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure that I _think_ he spoke to me, yeah," he asserted with a frustrated chuckle.

"Well...what did he say?"

Another deep breath. If it hadn't been for their encounter under the falls he would have been too uncomfortable to say this out loud. As it was, he now knew that he could tell her anything.

"When we were together...when we were both close. It was so good but so bad at the same time. Good for the obvious reasons," they shared a bashful smirk at that. "But bad because I'd feel this...anger spreading through me. At the idea that I wouldn't get to experience the good again. At the idea that someone else may have it with you. It wasn't fair. I didn't want it to end. And at the same time as we'd explode, I'd hoped, for just a few seconds, that the world would explode with us. Turning everything and everyone to dust in that instant. So that I'd never have to feel that way again."

Despite the relative horror of his words, she felt herself nodding. The sentiments, dreadfully familiar.

"You wanted time to stand still."

His eyes fell from the heavens to meet hers, and a small, uneasy grin made its way to his lips. "Yeah..."

Rinoa shifted her feet around so that she could sit cross legged, close enough that she could peer down at him and brush stray hairs from his forehead. Not that his hair was such a nuisance anymore. "So what about Odin? What did he say to you about this?"

Squall shrugged. "Nothing really. It was more like a feeling. I don't think he and Elisha ever took that step, seeing as it was such taboo back then." On a whim, he rotated his body so that he was perpendicular to her, his head landing in her lap. It made it easier for her to expand the gentle explorations of his scalp and her warm thigh was a thousand times more comfortable than the cement. "I forgot that I had been keeping him junctioned, just in case he ever wanted to pop up and explain to me how he dealt with being...committed to his sorceress. And after you had fallen asleep that last time, I was watching you, as frustrated as ever with my life, and suddenly I was somewhere far away. In a memory, I think. It was just a few flashes, but there was a woman. An old woman out in the fields fighting grendels with natural magic. It looked like she had been there for hours before Zantetsuken began."

"Zantetsuken? Odin's attack?"

Squall nodded, shimmying himself more comfortably against her. "That was all I saw but I'm pretty sure it was Elisha near the end of her days. And I think that even though she lived a long and prosperous life, she never got over him. She'd still stand out there waiting to see him. Risking herself to see him, if only for an instant. And...that got me thinking..."

"...What?"

His eyes fixed her with a stare that was neither humorous, nor lustful, nor nervous, nor any of the several emotions they had already skimmed through this morning. It was something else entirely, something she wasn't quite sure of yet but couldn't wait to find out. One of his hands rose to brush her windswept hair behind her ear and she automatically leaned into the palm, never sickening of his hands in any place on her skin.

"Tell me..." she coaxed after he had been silent for much too long. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that there's no point fighting this anymore," he said in a whisper, his thumb rubbing slow, delicate circles on her cheek. "I'm thinking I don't want to be Odin and Elisha. Nor Adel and Rowan or any other of the sorceress knight duos that terrorized the world. I want me to be me and I want you to be you. And I want us to be together."

Rinoa finally put her finger on it then, the source of that stare he was giving her.

It was Love.

Pure, complete, silly, scary, intoxicating love.

Not that he'd ever say it. Not yet at least. But for now, for today, that look was enough.

"Who knew I was that good?" she joked, spurring the intended smirk from his lips.

"Don't you be getting an ego now."

"I won't. I won't. I promise. Just kiss me already?"

Without further ado, he sat up then, his right hand reaching to mirror the path of his left across her cheek and behind her ears, both of them forcing her head back so that he could come at her from above.

He was a mere hair's width away when he paused, causing her to whimper in disappointment.

"We have to be subtle about this," he warned, the slight trembling in his voice proving that he too was having trouble holding back. "Slow. Just in case. We don't want to frighten the Council."

Rinoa nodded and tried to rise on her knees a little to force the gap closed, but his hands kept her in place.

"I'm serious," he insisted, trailing his lips along one side of her jaw. "We make the wrong person nervous and they won't think twice about termination. One year. One full tour of the Gardens together. That should be enough to prove we're not a threat. Then we can come out in public."

"A year...another year..." she sighed in annoyance, but continued to remain dutifully still in his arms. "I'm not sure I can take another year like this past one."

"I wouldn't worry." A light kiss on one corner of her mouth, then the other. "There won't be any comparison between."

"How can you tell?"

"Because..." finally, his lips fully met hers. And there was nothing teasing or innocent about it. He had probably meant to eventually back away and have some witty concluding remark, but it was completely forgotten as her hands twisted themselves into his hair and forced him closer, deeper. Then they were traveling down his chest, like had done to her earlier, the various fastenings of his uniform jacket being pulled free until her fingers once again found his belt.

"Wait. Wait!" he insisted, pushing her away.

"What?" she asked breathlessly. "What's..."

He leapt to his feet and headed for the exit, and for one frightening second Rinoa thought that maybe he had decided to take it all back. That it was too big a risk.

But then she heard the click of the security bolt being locked and he turned to fix her with an impish smile, his eyes almost unnaturally bright.

"As future Garden Captain and Publicity Consult, we should try to avoid psychologically scarring anyone. Agreed?"

Her hands flew to her mouth in an attempt to muffle a giggle so shrill and excited that it was rarely heard outside of Deling's department store dolly division. A sound she hadn't made since her father had first presented her with the puppy Angelo. It was the sound she had always made, to her embarrassing realization, when a new, yet long-sought after playfellow was finally confirmed into her life. But unlike her once prized collection of delicate porcelain faces, or the many shelves of wide eyed stuffed animals, Squall was truly a one of a kind item. And a companion she knew she would never tire of frolicking with.

Blushing profusely, she nodded in agreement to his proposition as he took the few steps required to return, smiling, into her arms. There was no time wasted as he put his full weight into a kiss that sent them falling together, instantly reanimating the lingering heat that had so nearly consumed them previously. The blaze was back full force before her back even hit the uneven cement, and so commenced what was sure to be the first of many incredible, blissfully normal (sort of) reunions.

With all of the good, and none of the bad.


	18. Improvement

"_A woman in love will do almost anything for a man, except give up the desire to improve him.__ "_

**- Nathaniel Branden**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 18: …_Improvement_ …

"Sooo..." the restless SeeD glanced at her watch for what seemed like the thousandth time that hour, then met each of the committee members' eyes with an apologetic grin. "I guess we should just...start. Unless!" She craned her neck to look over people's heads toward the front of the classroom, thinking she may have heard the door bolt being released. Alas, as it had been for the past ten minutes, the sound was only in her imagination.

With a sigh, Selphie slumped into her chair whilst turning her attention to Nida, delivering a swift kick in the ankle to rouse him from his music reading. "You called her, right?"

"For the hundredth time, yes." Rubbing at his foot to soothe the sting, he gestured with his free hand toward the mobile communicator that still rested, lifeless, on the table in front of them all. "And yes, it's on. Yes, it's working. She's not answering. She probably won't. Let's move on. Hyne help you if this meeting goes beyond the cafeteria closing hours."

"Yes. You're right. It's just...so..." she clenched and unclench her hands in the air, as if trying to physically grasp the word. "Annoying. Very annoying. This is the _third_ time this week."

"Maybe you should set her up with an alarm," piped in the leader of the decorating committee, a notoriously severe SeeD fresh from this year's batch of Galbadian graduates. With a short breath, she blew her dark red bangs out of her eyes and moved to sit up from where she had been resting on the table. "And make it a loud one. With a mallet that pops out and smacks her upside the head. Maybe then she'd remember to be on time."

"Temper, temper Selene," teased Marco, the caterer. "You've never even spoken to this woman and you're already planning to maim her?"

"I don't need to meet her to know that she's flaky. And in my books, flaky people rank down there with the fat, lazy and idiotic. None of which belong in Garden."

"Rinoa's not _flaky,_" Nida couldn't help but insist in his friend's defense. "And she's definitely not...fat. Or lazy."

Now idiotic?...that was still in debate.

Selene snorted while titling her chair dangerously far back, arms folded across her chest. "Touchy subject huh? What, has she not yet fallen helplessly into your arms?"

"HA!" Selphie's resulting sputter was so exuberant that it caused a glob of spit to escape her mouth, fly halfway across the room and land with a wet _splat_ onto the table. Quickly, she wiped her lips, muffling a few unpreventable giggles. "Sorry. Hee hee. Sorry Selene. I forgot that you're new here."

She and Nida shared a knowing look before she loudly and decisively cleared her throat. "Moving on! Without Rinoa-"

"What?" the new girl pushed. "What's so funny? What's wrong with her then? Wart covered? Hunchbacked? Vertically challenged? Likes to eat baby chocobos alive? What?"

"Oh you're just gonna make this festival **sparkle,** aren't ya?" said Nida with sarcastically wide and bright eyes, adding a little jazz hands for show.

At this chosen reaction, a flicker of understanding passed through her eyes. "Never mind." The SeeD fell back into her chair with a smirk. "I get it."

Nida glared.

Why Selphie had put such a loathsome woman in charge of decorating, he would never know. But he assumed it was something along the lines of she being the only one to volunteer. And she probably only 'volunteered' due to multiple clashes with the disciplinary committee back in her home Garden.

"Can you two please _attempt _to get along for the next three weeks? Once this Festival is over you can battle out your issues in whichever way you see fit. As long as it doesn't interfere with next year's planning."

"Whatever," mumbled Selene while swinging her feet onto the table top. Again, Selphie and Nida shared a look, this one exasperated. Just when a key member of Garden staff had gotten over abusing that word, here came a new one to make sure it remained in circulation.

"Let's just get this over with," conceded Nida with a wave of his hand. "I'll bring Rinoa up to speed tomorrow. Assuming I can find her."

"Fine, fine. Let's begin." The entire committee winced as she banged the new gavel Cid had had the torturous gall the give to her as a gift. "Now, as you all know, the menu is all set up thanks to some great work by Marco," she gave him a mini round of applause which no one had the energy to replicate. "Okayy...uhhh," she looked down her list, desperate to find some more good news to perk everyone up. "Oh! Also, with a little bit of pushing and shoving and minor threats, I was able to get those dark blue linens you wanted Selene!"

"Yay," she replied blankly, picking at her nails.

"Soooo the decor is progressing, I know. No pressure since I know you're busy settling in."

"None taken."

"Okayyy..." Selphie nervously re-stacked her papers, forcing herself not to dwell on the girl's terrifying indifference to an essential part of the Festival's success. "So, the food is good, as is the florist. The guest list has a ninety-six percent confirmation. We have a docking space for the White SeeDs boat as well as transport up to Garden. Cid's taking care of the official World Council summit portion of the evening. Servers are hired, champagne stocked, dishes and glasses ordered..."

"Sounds like everything's coming together Miss Tilmitt," Marco commented with a smile. One which Selphie returned with difficulty.

"Yes. Yes it is. Almost. Just..." she turned to Nida, her smile so wide it strained her cheeks. "Just the music my friends. Just the music isn't finished yet..."

"And on that note," Selene sprang to her feet, strapping over her shoulder a large leather case where they assumed she kept her weapon. That or a dead body. After a quick salute, she was heading for the exit. And as she strode away, Nida couldn't help but notice how unnaturally tall she was, and strong judging by the weight of her burden.

"If that's a gunblade," he whispered toward the still tense coordinator "I swear, we'll have to do some DNA testing. It's too uncanny."

"You're changing the subject," Selphie stated with a sudden glare. "And just so you know, it's a _pistol_-blade she uses. It's thinner."

Nida could only blink stupidly. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"And you don't find that to be...odd?"

Selphie shrugged. "Not really. Squall's a hero among the Gardens. Is it so surprising that some choose to emulate him?"

"But..." he gestured with a nod of his head toward her now empty seat. "You saw how she acts. And, oh man I just noticed her hair! It's the same length he used to have it. To be THAT big of a fan...It's _weird,_ right?"

"No weirder than the fact that we've wasted the last two minutes _not_ talking about your progress with the compositions." She leaned her chin into her hand, inspiring Nida to drop the subject. Selene's "special" personality and weapon choice wasn't _that_ shocking anyhow, as many people (both SeeD and civilian) were known to impersonate Squall. Just no one he met had ever done it so convincingly before.

"I figured we were skipping the usual music rant, seeing as the primary composer still isn't here?"

"Rinoa's doing the post-party originals. YOU'RE in charge of the summit classical. So enlighten me..."

With a quiet groan, Nida rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, wondering if the other committee members were as annoyed as he was at having to attend thrice weekly meeting that were basically repeats of the same information. "Same status as last week," he reported. "Everything's written. The cultural pieces are set up and musicians are contracted."

"And the orchestral 'Eyes on Me' you're writing? Any progress there?" Like the weapons expert that she was, Selphie knew to jab right where he was weakest; the piece he had been struggling with for weeks now, stuck on one silly problem.

"Negative."

"And what exactly is holding you back? I spoke with Rinoa. She approves of your take."

"Well of course she does. It's brilliant," he said this with his usual swaggering smirk, to which Selphie cocked an unimpressed eyebrow.

"It's not considered brilliant if no one ever gets to hear it."

"I know I know. It's just...this one section. Violin solo, very complex. Carries the entire melody of the song for the rest of the musicians."

"Anddd?"

"Anddd," Nida poked violently at the sheets of music resting on the table in front of him. "And, apparently, it's impossible to play well. At least according to all every individual in the orchestra we've hired. No one uses that instrument exclusively anymore. It's passé in the industry."

"You could always ask one of the SeeDs," Selphie suggested, scribbling notes as she went. "Most of us pre-war oldies had training on various instruments for espionage purposes. And some at Trabia were actually quite good."

"Not at classical violin I bet they weren't," Nida pointed out with a disheartened chuckle. "Nobody at Balamb really bothered either. It was too much of a pain to learn and not exactly fashionable. In fact, in my entire grade, I think only one guy was ever enough of a suck-up to..."

He paused then, one finger in the air gradually curling up into a fist as the memories assaulted him. There was an actual violin player at Garden. One man who had a reputation of picking the most difficult of options in every class, just to prove that could.

"Crap," he whispered, falling back into his chair.

Curious, Selphie pulled her eyes away from her notes. "What?"

While scratching nervously at his head, Nida debated if it was worth the effort. In most cases such as these, people would ask themselves 'what's the worst that could happen? He says no.' and then move forward with confidence. To Nida, the answer to that question produced many terrifying answers. Many of which involved needing to have his jaw re-set.

"Leonhart," he admitted at last, causing Selphie, as expected, to freeze up. "Leonhart's the only one who could possibly pull it off around here. My brain probably skipped that option as a natural defense mechanism. It's going to take a lot of begging and bribing and still probably won't work..."

"Well," she took a second to shake herself loose, feigning a smile for the rest of the lingering committee. "You go do that then."

"Do what?"

"Beg. Bribe. _Ask._"

"What? Now?"

"Yes _now._ It's not my fault you've procrastinated this past month. We need to get it over with and move on. Besides, it's not yet curfew. He's probably still in his office."

"But Selphieeeeee," Nida whined. "It's bad enough that I have to start full-time training with the guy next week. Can I not enjoy these last few days of non-shattered confidence?"

"Not if you want to enjoy the next few months of non-shattered bones!" Her smile was the same uncomfortably wide one from earlier, and Nida felt as if he were shriveling beneath its terrifying brightness. In this case, Squall was definitely the lesser of two evils.

And so, seeing as he had little other choice, the Commander-in-training swept his communicator off the table and headed off to his doom.

"_It's for Rinoa..._" he muttered to himself with every agonizing step toward the door, knowing it to be the only reason this foolish campaign had a shot in hell. "_He might do it for Rinoa..._"

"Call me when it's done!" Selphie yelled to his hunched back as he exited, before checking something off her list and reshuffling her papers. "Now, Pica...I heard you're having problems emulating the SeeD colors in jello shot form..."

* * *

It was dark in the office.

He preferred it that way, usually.

He liked the way the setting sun gradually darkened the space, obliterating any need to glance at a clock. It allowed him to be more efficient, being in the dark. No distractions. Nothing except his desk highlighted by the glow of his computer screen, displaying the documents he had yet to get to.

But tonight...tonight he was regretting the decision of not glaring the lights. He regretted it from the moment she opened the door and all he had been able to see was a dark shape, silhouetted by the hallway lamps, and nothing once she closed it behind her. If he had realized earlier what she was wearing, the secretary suit she had purchased as a joke months ago, he would have reacted sooner. Skipping the mindless chit-chat that neither of them cared for anymore.

Her excuse for being there, at this time of night, was a tested and true one from the past. He listened eagerly as her heels clicked closer before disembodied hands placed a cafeteria tray laden with edibles onto the center space of his desk. He always forgot dinner, the least important meal of the day. And Rinoa, when she had been his assistant, had made it her mission to ensure that he consumed something.

Because "dying of scurvy before the age of twenty is such a pathetic way to go," she would say would a smirk. And usually, that would be it. He'd wave her away toward her desk while freeing the most pressing documents from beneath the platter. She would grumble, annoyed, and then scamper off. That is, unless she had noticed him skipping lunch as well. Then, sometimes, she would hop onto his desk, pick up a fork and attempt to airship feed him. It never worked of course. He would back away until she ran out of reach, splayed across his desk with her arm stretched as far as it could go. If he was particularly short on patience, sometimes he would grab the fork, eat its skewered contents (only if it was something good), and toss it across the room for her to fetch. Sometimes that would cause her to leave in a huff, sometimes a fight would ensue, sometimes she would retrieve the dust covered utensil and try again.

Hyne knew, she was the epitome of stubborn.

Tonight it began no differently than usual, with placing herself on his desk. She had done it a million times before, but tonight was somehow...different. Maybe it was because she moved in slowly, more of a slide than a jump. Maybe it was the way in which she crossed her legs. But, most probably, it was because they had both been unable to get away from their various responsibilities for an entire two days. And he felt it had been eons since he last touched her.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. A question, no different than one she would have posed back in the day, but loaded with new meaning.

Squall stared into what he could see of her eyes, but in this dim light she was impossible to read. All he knew, suddenly, was that this was a fantasy of his come to life; a concept that was simultaneously terrifying and euphoric. Not that he could let her know. It was too embarrassing, despite the declarations, the confessions, that had been made only a few days ago in the secret area. What if she had, in fact, only come here to deliver a meal?

And so he responded with a simple "Yes," followed by a "thanks.", his tone casual despite the racing of his heart. He hated playing these run around games, but he still didn't know what the proper etiquette was for people in a clandestine, wholly new (to each other and, in his case, to the concept in general), physical relationship. And so he nibbled at the bread roll she had brought him, clicking around his computer monitor without making any actual changes to the document, feigning his usual coldness even though around her, ever since the night before the World Council conference, her presence always made him feel instantly heated.

He wished he would get over it. He wished he could be _that_ guy sometimes -_but only sometimes_- the one who had women -_but he only wanted Rinoa_- fawning over him with a mere suggestive glance. Even if it was just lewd locker room talk, an urban myth of prowess.

He wished he wasn't so afraid all the time.

"Squall." Beyond his notice, Rinoa had somehow slipped over to his side of the desk. This wasn't a part of the usual script. Usually she exited by now. Usually she'd leave him to his work, his personal space. But he guessed those days were over. He silently celebrated those days being over.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked, as always respectful of his standard preference for solitude, but slyly inspiring a different response by leaning a little into the light. Her blouse, beneath the grey vest, was discovered to be minus its usual tie and unbuttoned down to the center groove of her chest.

Squall swallowed. The answer was inescapable. "No."

Rinoa smiled shyly, eyes slowly touring the dark room. Her coming here had been a strange almost unconscious decision, one that had been stewing in her brain since she woke up that morning, sat at her piano and found herself unable to do anything other than listen for him. Waiting for those quiet footsteps in the hall, perhaps a knock on her studio door, to signal that he had completed his duties for the day, and the next hour at least was theirs alone.

She should have known, remembered, that it didn't work like that. Not only due to the security issues of him being seen visiting her many nights in a row, nor because he was swamped with 'passing-the-torch' Commander duties and had a habit of taking naps up here when pressed for time. None of these facts were the true reason for keeping himself away. Squall wouldn't come to her because he wouldn't know that she wanted him too. He couldn't fathom that his enduring absence could make her want him more rather than less. Thus, there had been no choice but to take things into her own hands.

Being, for once, the instigator toward this type of engagement was undeniably strange. In her meager experience with her one and only 'serious' ex-boyfriend, it had always been something she had been nervously coaxed into. He had used words that would make her uncomfortably blush, touches that seemed initially invasive as well as constant, subtle reminders that they saw each other so rarely, and he had his pick of almost any other woman back at Garden should she prove undeserving.

If she had, back then, considered those feelings of obligation to be _love_, then this, what she now felt with Squall, was _obsession._ No words, no touches, not even his presence was necessary to bring the subject to the forefront of her mind until it was all she could think of. As though being with him, as soon as humanely possible, was as essential as breathing.

However, discretion was still a priority. So she had waited for darkness, for near curfew. She had impatiently stood in line at the cafeteria for a meal just as an excuse in case she ran into anyone on the way, and in case the desires were not mutual. This entire day had been wasted, spent writhing in hair-pulling frustration and all to humor the World Council's paranoia. But now, finally, judging by the way he was staring, it would all be worth it.

"Are there still cameras in here?" she whispered, glancing around the room, the screen light revealing nothing more than the desk and his enlightened expression.

"Removed yesterday," he informed her, hands reaching to grab her by the waist, pulling her close enough so the she fit between his parted knees. "Part of the new Angelica Policy. No spying in quarters deemed private."

"You double checked?"

"I always double check." He leaned his forehead against her stomach and let his hands travel down her knees, to the hem of that annoying skirt; the source of months of exasperation. He wanted to tear at it, but restrained himself. As he always did. At least, when he hadn't been drinking or they didn't end up on the secret area cement as an unforeseen ending to what was meant to be a mere discussion. As their last two and, so far, only encounters had been.

This would be different. This was _planned_. It made it scarier, but no less exhilarating. For how many times had he sat in this exact chair, imagining this exact situation in the back of his mind? Hundreds for sure. Potentially thousands. Stoic or not, he was still a guy. And it had been impossible not to have one's mind wander when the secretary Rinoa bent over to water the plants or mindlessly re-adjusted her bra straps or the difficult month when she had brought a tin of sea-salt toffee-pops into the office for snacking. The memories contributed to the intensity of this _real_ moment, as did the fact that Quistis or Cid or Xu could easily walk in, as they did some times before curfew in order to collect and/or drop off paperwork. The notion entertained him more than should be considered normal.

_'But we're not normal,'_ she reminded him through their connection, threading her fingers through his short hair as his hands, with thumbs hooked beneath her skirt hem, began their journey upward. _'Normal people fall for one another at school parties. They discover one another in hotel rooms. They can brag to all their friends about how happy they are together.'_

Squall chuckled into her flat, silk covered stomach. Their situation was rather unique, wasn't it? There were no rules, no standards, yet, except those they formulated together.

"This is enough for me though" she whispered eagerly. Meanwhile, his fingers, having reached the height of her outside thighs, paused in shock, finding no barrier to remove. He groaned and Rinoa laughed. Another silly, instinctive decision that had proved rewarding. "Is this enough for you?"

"Sometimes..." he responded, finally lifting his head in order to look up at her with fiery eyes. "Sometimes I think it's too much..."

_'I'm not afraid. You make me not afraid of anything.'_

To prove it, he stood up. He kissed her once, long and deep while gradually backing her toward and up onto his desk with his nails still dug into her hips, holding her skirt up as far as it could go. In hushed, internal whispers, he could hear her telling him what she needed. The instructions that, so far, had always led to a successful and satisfying ending. But that wasn't the point of this experiment. Anyone could follow instructions, paint by numbers. Squall wanted to be considered a bona fide artist.

He always did prefer exploring the most difficult of paths. It's what made him such a successful student. So when his lips left hers, Rinoa didn't think much of it. That is until they made their presence known in some other, unexpectedly lower place on her body.

The cafeteria tray and all its content clattered to the floor, as did his keyboard and flat-panel screen and all documents and his nameplate and pen holder. There wasn't any opportunity to be made self-conscious by the unfamiliar act being performed, he made sure of it by focusing intensely on where it counted.

She swears she saw spirits. And electricity. And fireworks.

And when it was over, and it was over astonishingly fast, faster than she had ever thought humanely possible, bright spots danced in front of her eyes for long minutes afterwards as she struggled to remember how to breathe.

"You okay?" he asked, crawling up to hover above as she lay, boneless, on the desktop.

After a few blinks, his expression finally became readable, showing an unexpected and hilarious amount of concern for her well being. As if he were afraid that his experiment somehow broke her. And it might have, considering how she couldn't stop shaking.

"How did-" she took a moment to swallow, breathe deeply and hold a hand to quell her still rapidly beating heart. "Where did you learn-" a few more breaths "how do you know how to do that?"

Squall only shrugged, gently smoothing away the sweat-soaked strands of hair that covered her face. "Observation. Listening. Deductive skills. Analysis. The usual methods."

Rinoa laughed, though it came out as more of a staggering whimper.

Many people had often described Squall as a "genius" to her, mainly as an excuse for his abrasive personality yet outstanding scores in all fields with what seemed like minimal effort or care. Young students with such gifts weren't expected to have common social skills, and no one was surprised that he grew up to have few friends and minimal interactions with the opposite sex. Yet he inspired no teasing or reprimand, only respect from his comrades (with the exception of Seifer who considered himself to have it all). For geniuses worked alone. Geniuses didn't succumb to primal instincts of companionship or attraction. Geniuses didn't have enough mental capacity for anything beyond their vast talents and present endeavors.

Rinoa wondered if he considered this, considered sex in general, to be a similar type of skill test. One which, as usual, he quickly became frightfully good at through the usual tactical process.

The sudden thought disturbed her, and it apparently showed in her expression.

"Rinoa," Squall asked tentatively, brows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

The unspoken question was, of course, _'did I do it wrong?'._ To which she, again, couldn't help but laugh.

Her arms, still feeling heavy and loose, gradually rose to wrap around his neck and bring him into a kiss. He hesitated for second, knowing he still tasted of her, but her mind intervened to assure him that she truly didn't care.

_'I'm so lucky,'_ she told him internally, while their mouths slowly slid over one another. _'You get it. You know me. You deduce what I need before I do. It's...scary. I worry that I can't give you the same.'_

"You do. You always do," he breathed against her lips before capturing them again. _'You came here. I needed you, and you came. You're here. That's all I need. All I want.'_

He moved against her then, most of his solid body weight pressing her flatly onto the desk, and she felt how insistent his need had become. The shift was slightly uncomfortable, but that idea that he had done it just for himself, just to get a little more friction regardless of the alternate effects, pleased her greatly. It proved this wasn't about science, adding to his repertoire of skills or conquering an age-old elusive puzzle of female pleasure.

He just wanted them both to feel good. Free. Desired. And for something other than math, strategy or kill shots ratios. For those reasons, she was more than happy to accept him. Especially here, in a room they had spent a better part of their time being miserable, now they would find delight.

At least, that had been the plan.

"Squall?"

A quiet knock on the door, but neither of them heard it. The hurried breaths and sliding of zipper, belts and buttons rendering them deaf to all else.

Outside the door, Nida grumbled in annoyance. He knew Squall was in there, Quistis having confirmed that he was logged into the system from his desk after she had chuckled mercilessly at the futility of this mission. Not answering meant that he was wearing headphones or, most likely, had fallen asleep again at his desk.

Though the idea of intruding on the Commander in any way made his heart skip a beat, he needed to get the question over with. Not only because he wouldn't be surprised if Selphie was currently hiding in his closet with a cattle-prod, but because the sooner he got the expected 'hell no', the sooner he could get to re-arranging his orchestral piece to work with another instrument. As heartbreaking as the concept was.

So, without any more procrastinating to convince him of how stupid this was, Nida slapped his hand onto the bio-lock scanner and waited. After all, in a month's time this would be _his_ office and it would be _his_ job to keep the malcontents in line. He had to get used to being a pushy, holier-than-thou automaton.

"Hello?" he called before cracking the door open and entering the pitch black space beyond. "Squall? You in here?"

"Nida!" A voice he recognized, but not one he expected.

"Rinoa?" Without thinking, he reached over and switched on the light.

Immediately, he wished he hadn't.

It could have been worse.

It would have been much worse had he waited even a minute longer. But as it was, only his heart was bothered. For there was Squall sitting at his empty desk with attempted calm, while Rinoa stood beside him with her back turned, straightening her skirt, surrounded by a mess of office supplies.

As if such a state, despite their poses, could imply anything other than the obvious.

"You've got to be kidding me..." Nida muttered with a near growl, letting his hand fall heavily from the light switch. "This..._This_ is why you missed the meeting?"

Rinoa gave him only a quick glance over her shoulder, fingers working furiously on her blouse buttons. "Meeting?" she stuttered, seemingly out of breath. "What meeting?"

"You know, the Festival Committee meeting? The ones Selphie has been staging every Monday, Wednesday and Friday night for months? The ones you haven't shown up to all week even though I remind you every day!"

After a deep breath to compose herself, Rinoa finally turned to face him, her expression struggling to avoid revealing her humiliation. "I'm-I'm sorry. I forgot."

"You...forgot? Seriously? That's your excuse?"

Her eyes shifted to the ground, a mess of food and papers, which she suddenly felt a compulsive need to start clearing up. "Can we...talk about this later?" she asked, her voice somber as she knelt on the carpet and began collecting the broken plate pieces. "Please?"

"I can't believe you..." Nida ran his hands through his hair, feeling himself on the brink of a tirade. And, of course, the missed meetings were only a portion of the issue. "After everything I've...how can you be so-"

"Do you _need_ something Aldran?" The Commander interrupted, oddly unaffected the situation as he lifted his screen back on the desk. Though his stare, that cold, unblinking one, warned of a potential altercation should he dare to aggravate things further for Rinoa.

_This is none of your business_, his eyes seemed to say. Almost as clearly as if the words were spoken inside his head.

Seeing no other option, Nida forced his emotions down into the dark recesses of his mind. He was here for a reason. He did need something. And now, he was more determined than ever to get it.

"Sure. Yes. Fine. The Festival needs a violinist for the orchestral version of 'Eyes on Me'," he explained concisely, fists clenched at his sides. "None of our musicians are familiar enough with the instrument, and I remembered you were quite accomplished during training. You're the only one anyone can think of to do it. Will you?"

Rinoa froze from collecting broken glass then. Her eyes, watery with hope, rose to pin him to his chair. Squall felt them digging in like needles.

Without needing to voice them, Nida saw the coercing particulars begin to stir within Squall's mind. There was no denying that he had been good, the best, with the instrument. No one else having had the guts to try seeing as music had been considered a low priority class. The song he knew was meant to be a publicity stunt for Rinoa, reminding the world that she was the daughter of a celebrated entertainer and worthy of the position of Publicity Consultant. His playing it, as the new Captain and her guardian, would symbolize a poetic merger. It may make their transition into public partners that much more smooth. And of course, most importantly, it would mean the world to Rinoa herself.

The song, her mother's music reanimated as a prequel to hers, performed not by a group of nameless strangers but by the person who inspired the melodies out of her...it would be the best present she could ever ask for.

He knew then that he had no choice. Regardless of his disdain for public presentations that hadn't gotten any easier over a year in the spotlight.

Rinoa deserved this. Besides, it gleefully pillaged some of the credit from Nida for writing the damn thing.

"Fine," Squall muttered after a long minute's consideration. "Just...email me the sheet music and rehearsal schedule."

"Seriously?" Rinoa asked from where she knelt on the floor, her stare still tense as if he hadn't yet, truly, answered the question. "The Festival's in a little less than a month...it's...a lot of work. And, I imagine, you haven't touched the violin in years. You'll have to learn all over again."

"He'll be fine," Nida insisted somewhat bitterly just as Squall opened his mouth to say the same thing. "Don't you know that Leonhart's the best at everything?"

The two men stared each other down for a while. Mouths set in a thin line, lids nearly half closed. Rinoa rolled her eyes, half expecting them to charge each other and butt horns at any moment.

"Nida, let's go," she offered her hand which he, hesitantly, strode forward to take, helping her off the floor. "We'll go find Selphie, I'll apologize and you can tell her the good news about the piece. Then we can go over some demos I've been working on. Sound good?"

His eyes, ever so slowly, torn themselves away from Squall, turning his attention to Rinoa as his features softened into a weary grin. "Sounds great."

The sorceress gave his hand a comforting pat, rewarding him for keeping his cool with a smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she told Squall tersely. A hint that he shouldn't risk entering the studio tonight. To which he leaned his cheek into his hand, elbow on his desk; his version of a sulk.

_'We need to finish this...'_ he told her through their link. _'Soon. I promise.'_

It took all her concentration to suppress a shiver as she and Nida walked arm-in-arm out into the hallway.

"So..." he couldn't help but instigate the instant the door closed behind them. "How long has **that** been going on?"

"What are you now, starting your own gossip blog?" she asked with an uncomfortable laugh. "Since when do you care about people's personal lives?"

"I don't care about _people_. I care about you. I care about you getting yourself hurt."

"Hmm...Do I sense some jealousy?"

"Pft! Course I'm jealous!" he admitted while violently pressing the button to summon the elevator. "The guy's already a freakin' prodigy and then nature sees fit to give him those 'soulful' blue eyes and that infuriatingly perfect face and body. Every man in this building and quite possibly the world has _issues_ due to Squall Leonhart and the few others like him. The only win we normal guys had was that his perfection scared people off."

"And by 'perfection', I know you meant to say 'crass attitude'?" Rinoa attempted to correct, shocked by this confession. "And what do you mean by _we_ normal guys? You were also at the top of your classes. You too passed the SeeD exam on the first try and made Commander before twenty. You're good looking, strong AND have a million friends around here! What the heck do you have to be jealous of?"

Nida sighed, tapping his foot impatiently as they waited for the doors to open. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me?"

As if on cue, the elevator arrived, giving Nida the needed excuse to relinquish her arm and station himself in a far away corner. They rode all the way down in silence except for the automated chimes as they passed each subsequent floor. Nervously, Rinoa played with the ends of her hair, wondering exactly what had made him so upset. Besides the obvious; her avoidance of Festival responsibilities and, perhaps, having to discover her relationship with Squall in such a appalling manner.

She knew she should have told him. She knew she had to the second she escaped the secret area after their tryst there, but was too embarrassed by the fact that their romantic affiliation so far consisted of only a five minute conversation and several, sweaty hours spent in semi-public spaces with little to no clothing on. Such a beginning wasn't exactly something you ran home to gush to mom about.

Making a mental note to spend more time _talking_ to Squall next time they met, Rinoa planned what she could do to make it up to her friend as the elevator slowed toward the main level. She considered a song dedication, or a covert operation to relinquish the cafeteria of their hot dog surplus at this late hour, maybe even a free pass to tease or pester her about this until the end of time. But when they stepped out into the main atrium, deserted due to it being a couple of minutes past curfew, Rinoa found there was no need for apologies as she was suddenly and briskly pulled into his arms.

Though she was no stranger to such gestures of affection from him, there was something indisputably bizarre about this one. It was little tighter than usual. Almost desperate. And it was a long, anxious while before he bothered to explain his actions.

"I've always been one step behind him," Nida eventually muttered into her neck, his voice broken and low. "And I always will be. It just...sucks. That's all. Definitely sucks."

After taking a moment to swallow her shock, Rinoa nodded against his shoulder, patting him on the back for a meager sense comfort.

She should have realized. This had never been, strictly, about her after all.

Nida and Squall were more alike than either would ever dare to admit.

"I get it. Wait...no." She shook her head, reformulating her speech. "Actually, I can't get it. I can't even imagine how difficult it is for you. But...you can't rush these things, ya know? You'll find someone. Just...try to be patient."

"Yeah. Patience. Ruler of my life." He released her with a deep, expelling breath, smiling sadly when their eyes met. "Well it, apparently, worked for you. Maybe I'll get lucky soon."

"You _will_," she insisted with a matching, confident grin. "I'd bet my life on it."

* * *

Upstairs in his office, made dark once again, Squall's eyes were fixed to his monitor.

But it wasn't the building plans for Trabia's new gymnasium that commanded his attention this time. It was the security feed from the atrium.

Though he knew he shouldn't concern himself with it, the sight of them walking out, arm-in-arm like that, had imprinted itself into his brain. If only to re-set the image, he had found himself rushing to reposition the scattered hardware of his computer, automatically going through the motion of accessing the cameras and bringing up the elevator.

He watched them as they quietly and awkwardly entered the space, careful to stay more than an arm's length apart, both their mouths pressed closed. Squall felt his lips twitch in satisfaction. He imagined the conversation they had had in the hallway; Nida pointing out how emotionally unequipped he was, Rinoa defending him, inevitably arriving at this stalemate. The interruption of their evening had proven to be more functional than frustrating. At least the man now knew, with absolute certainty, to what degree they were involved. Squall imagined he was now disgusted with her, considering her ruined.

Good.

He had almost shut it off then, almost deemed the case closed and let it go. But then, just in between the door closing as they exited, he saw Nida make his move.

Furious, Squall returned the main page of the security application, typing frantically to find the proper feed.

When he eventually pulled up the angle, a whole minute later, they were still in each other's arms, whispering. Squall felt his blood turn cold. As cold as it had been before they had decided to break their pre-established physical and emotional boundaries, back when he had found a need to smash or kill things in order to feel normal again.

_'It's not what you think,'_ he told himself, struggling to keep it under control. _'Relax. You have to relax.'_

Again as if on instinct, Squall's hands began to blindly dig into his desk drawer, finding and pulling out the emergency cigarettes he kept hidden there. A distraction, he just needed a distraction.

By the time he had it lit, Rinoa and Nida had separated. Both were smiling, but that was the extent of their salacious activity. As they walked to the dorms together, side by side not arm in arm, Squall followed them, feeling his heartbeat return to normal and the warmth return to his veins as the smoke filled his lungs. They passed by Selphie on the way who, ten seconds into their conversation, was jumping up and down, clapping happily. He assumed they had just told her about his participation in the 'Eyes on Me' orchestra, to which Squall grinned briefly, happy to oblige.

At the junction of the dorms they all stopped. A few words were exchanged, a few exaggerated yawns, and then they were all heading their separate ways. Selphie and Nida toward the SeeD dorms and Rinoa toward the Administrator wing. Toward her studio. All alone.

His cigarette was instantly stamped out. There was something so much better waiting.

* * *

She opened the door before he even had a chance to knock, having sensed his presence as soon as he stepped into the hall.

"How did you-" He silenced her roughly with a kiss, making a silent vow never to leave things half finished again, before slamming the door shut behind them.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I've had this chapter fully written and edited for like, literally, 3 months now. But something was stopping me from posting it...too many pieces were too long, or too quick or too graphic and I kept telling myself "when I have a moment, I'll make it better!" Then, of course, not only did life become crazy (I officially have a full time job as a 3D modeler at a game company! WOOO!), but I ended up writing two NEW chapters of this story in my meager spare time and really didn't feel like going backwards.

Thus here I am, three month later, not even bothering to re-read it one last time before posting since I know I'll get re-sucked into insisting it get better. Hope you enjoyed it anyway! And, on a brighter note, I do now have new chapters, that I'm not actually embarrassed about, ready to go.

Thank you all for your love and support.


	19. Beautiful

**STORY SUMMARY** (because it's been a while): Story is set a year after Ultimecia. Squall has since hired Rinoa as his personal secretary, but refuses to move any farther in their romantic relationship under the excuse of "things are still too hectic, government-wise". A research/camping trip to Odin's Tower ends badly when Rinoa accidentally shoots him while testing out her gun blade skills. After barely surviving thanks to a transfusion from Rinoa, he is confined to a wheel chair and treats all students and staff horribly until Quistis forces him onto sick leave. Rinoa, in the mean time, has discovered that Squall had been following the instructions of a World Council "Angelica Policy" which forbids him from engaging her romantically, but asks that he keep her "distracted" for at least a ten year period. It is based on a theory of Odine's that sorceresses depend on their Knights and can never leave them nor reach their full potential as long as there's an _implied_ future together. For the past year, they had all been tricking her into being willingly confined to Garden, using Squall as the bait. She promptly quits as his assistant, wishing to serve her jail-time without bothering her actor friends.

Later, Squall reveals to her that the Policy was a mere joke to satiate the paranoid Council while he tried to figure out a way they can co-exist normally. A development he never told her about, was that recently he is able to hear her thoughts when they are close. Though annoyed at the invasion of her privacy, Squall had always been comforted and inspired by the fact that he knew for certain that she had no world domination plans. He informs her that he had discovered the existence of a past sorceress and knight, Odin and Elisha, who were somehow able to live out their lives together without any bloodshed. His goal for the past year has been to figure out how they managed to do it: be together, and not succumb to the inevitable urge for power. For now though, they have to keep away from one another. It's too dangerous. He's already been having nightmares disguised as fantasies of them taking over, cutting down anyone who dare to question their relationship. He's horrified by how appealing the visions are.

Meanwhile; Quistis, feeling bad for Rinoa, starts a petition to reformat the Policy. Though they wish that she remain under Garden care for both her safety and the wishes of the Council, she has recommended that Rinoa rotate within all four Gardens as a hostess, organizer and music writer to each of their distinctive, seasonal Festivals. Squall doesn't like the plan, even though he has been offered the position of "Garden Captain" which would involve him touring all four Gardens with her to coordinate their affairs. He doesn't trust anyone outside Balamb. But if he doesn't accept the job, Nida will: her new closest friends due to the fact that he inspires her to stop moping and make something of herself.

Squall's research, through smashing a locket found at Odin's tower, revealed a note that explains why Odin chose to become such a strange GF: it was a method of protecting his sorceress only when she needed it, without them being able to negatively influence one another. Though the magic has since been lost, it seems the only solution is for them to live apart, him supporting her as best as he can from afar through his government work. Odin's sorceress, Elisha, later became a painter, married and adopted children. Proving that she was able to move on but not regenerate the curse of knighthood onto someone else since Odin was still technically filling the role. Squall wishes that same future for Rinoa, even though it will end with him dying miserable and alone. After having a few drinks to drown his misery, Squall is unable to resist visiting Rinoa in the studio her built for her next door. He only wanted to say goodbye, but they end up deciding they need a proper, one night farewell. If only to expel any last regrets and release built up stress.

The next day, Rinoa wakes up alone with Selphie screaming at her that she's late for the World Council video conference. To her surprise, when she arrives it is announced that Squall has accepted the term of Garden Captain and will begin touring with her once the Balamb Summer Festival is over. In privacy, he admits that their night together inspired him to try a relationship in secret, confident that they can control their fate.

The following week, Nida becomes exasperated as Rinoa has skirted her music festival duties. He is also frustrated searching for a violinist talented enough to play his version of "Eyes on Me" as publicity stunt to support Rinoa as all 4 Garden's publicity consultant. After accidentally walking in on her and Squall in his office, he guilts the Commander into taking up violinist position, as he was very talented in music back in their school days and Rinoa could use the good press. Walking back to their dorms, Nida admits to Rinoa that he is jealous of Squall and she hugs him in sympathy - all of which Squall views on the security monitors, feeling oddly jealous and frustrated. Despite her warnings not to visit to keep the secrecy of their relationship, he cannot help but go see her.

The Festival is scheduled on the 27th of August, four days after Squall's 19th birthday.

* * *

"_What a strange illusion it is to suppose that beauty is goodness.__"_

**- Leo Tolstoy**

-. **Possession** .-

Chapter 19: …_Beautiful_ …

He awoke a start, someone having clapped their hands directly in front of his nose in order to garner his attention.

It wasn't the most pleasant of ways to be roused, but he was getting used to it. Apparently it was the only nominal-pain method that worked short of smacking him upside the head. At least that's what Qusitis, Zell, Selphie and Nida had all repeatedly pointed out over the past two weeks.

"Sorry," Squall muttered, rubbing at the skin in between his eyes in a relatively useless attempt to de-fuzz his brain. He couldn't believe it was only eleven am. "I didn't- did you ask something?"

"I _asked,_" Kadowaki repeated with an annoyed frown "if you had been getting enough sleep lately? But never mind."

"Sorry," he repeated, finding the process of dredging up new words and rearranging them into sentences almost beyond his capabilities at the moment. "No...obviously. Not really. A lot of...work, goings on. Summit papers. Replacement training. Coleslaw-"

"Coleslaw? Since when do your duties coincide with those involving coleslaw?"

Squall winced, tapping at his forehead as if hoping to jump start his brain. "No. Lunch tangent. Sorry."

"Well," Kadowaki snapped off her gloves with a sigh, shaking her head at the usually severe man now struggling to keep his eyes open while on her examination table. "I'd tell you to slow down, take a few days off, but knowing that would just be a waste of breath, let's instead push through the usual check up. I'll get my way after you inevitably faint and fall down the stairs or something. Until then, let gets your weight down."

After inhaling deeply to ensure that as much oxygen as possible circulated his limbs, Squall pushed himself off the counter and headed towards the scale. Each step was excruciating, as if he were dragging boulders from his ankles. It was such a bizarre feeling for him to be so tired that he no longer cared about outwardly showing it, having quite often experienced consecutive sleepless nights that, usually, in no way affected his performance as Commander.

But then again, that had been before he had a "girlfriend" - if such a casual word could be applied to what they had developed recently. And sleepless nights reading paper work were quite different from sleepless nights spent in her company. He would have smirked at the memories, reminding himself that they were worth every aching step, but he was too drained. He just wanted to get this check-up over with, slink back into his office and, perhaps, call in his part-time assistant to bring up some 'coleslaw'; a coded order that never failed to rejuvenate him.

Then he could sleep. After he had taken and given all that he could, only then could he rest easy.

Rinoa had teased once, about a week ago, that perhaps he was addicted to her. Maybe he was. However, one could argue that almost two years of suppressing such impulses excused a few weeks of insatiable behavior.

He stepped onto the scale, the metal cold beneath his bare feet, as Kadowaki consulted his file.

"Soo...your _don't-let-secretaries-play-around-with-military-grade-weapons-cause-they'll-probably-shoot-you_ or, the short version,_ Idiot of the Year_ injury seems to have healed nicely according to scans. No signs of infection and minimal damage to the muscle."

"Good," Squall muttered, tapping at his grey-cotton covered thigh. He knew very well that the once ugly, ridged scars were now only a few pale, pink lines thanks the sorceress' healing.

"Blood pressure is little high. Sugar-level high as well. And your mass..." She positioned the two weights of the scale at their usual average expectancy for someone of Squall's height and state of fitness, one-hundred and fifty, and was shocked to discover that the levels remained completely tilted.

"Hmm," she muttered, checking his chart again before pushing to smaller weight further. And then further. And further still, until she was forced to add another ten pounds to the upper level and start again. Things only began to balance once she reached the high sixties and by then her entire face was pinched into a grimace.

"Leonhart?" she prompted, seeing as his shoulders had begun to droop again.

"Mmm-hmm," he muttered while rubbing a palm into his eye socket.

"You may want to pay attention to this. You have, somehow, gained over twenty pounds in a little less than fourteen days. That is what we refer to in the medical community as _disgusting. _I have to ask that you stop quenching your thirst with the fryer drippings or whatever other similar disgusting habit you've picked up recently. Okay?"

At this, Squall paused in his eye gunk removal, focusing instead on the unbelievable numbers displayed by the scale on which he stood. He quickly stepped off, taking a moment to confirm that all he was wearing were the thin grey scrubs he had been forced into for the scan, before returning to re-assess the numbers.

"It's broken," he decided at last, to which Kadowaki slowly shook her head.

"I've had six appointments before you and all were normal. Not to mention this is balance scale, not digital. Minimal room for mess ups and frequently calibrated by yours truly. So-" she began scribbling in her chart again, shaking her head in displeasure. "What's your poison, huh? Chocolate? Cheese? Full cans of salted lard imported from Timber?"

Squall's eyes narrowed, suddenly, fully alert and not very happy about it. "Aren't you supposed to be professional and sensitive, like, at least ten percent of the time?"

"Yessss...but when anyone, let alone a Commanding Officer, makes this extreme of a weight change in either direction, I've found humiliation to be the best motivator. Especially with soldiers who treat their bodies like trash bins during a long hiatus following an injury. Now take off your shirt."

At this, Squall stiffened, protectively crossing his arms over his chest. "We agreed that I wouldn't have to do that anymore after the fourth time you whistled. In fact, I remember a signed harassmentclause-"

"As amusing and ridiculously easy as it is to make you uncomfortable, I just need to measure your body-fat percentage. Then we can start you on a new regiment. Can't have you dropping dead of a heart attack in the middle of a field exercise. Stand over there, please."

Seeing he had no other choice, Squall left the scale with a sigh of annoyance while pulling the starched shirt up over his head. Newly stripped, he placed himself, feet spread, in the corner of the examination room she had gestured to, bracing himself for the inevitable poking, prodding and inappropriate jokes.

But when Kadowaki turned to face him, slapping her skin-fold measurement tool into her palm as if it were a club, _amused_ was the last word that could be used to describe her expression.

Squall instinctively tensed. "What?"

Hesitantly, she returned the tool to the counter and brought his file back up to her face, adjusting her spectacles. "Back up," she instructed gruffly. "Against the wall."

As he followed the instructions, he turned his head to note that she was leading him to a large stencil of a measuring tape. Only after his back hit the plaster did she come forward to manually adjust the angle of his chin and confirm the numbers up close.

"You're...taller..." she whispered, as if unable to believe it. "Almost...three inches."

Squall couldn't help but scoff. "You're probably just looking at the wrong file."

"Shut it Leonhart. You think I don't know my own filing system after thirty years?"

"I'm just saying. Twenty pound, three inches. That's not even possible, is it?"

"Oh it's possible, but not common. A post-pubescent growth spurt. Just because you have the lackluster brain of a fifty-year-old veteran, doesn't mean your body had given up on its youth. You're still only eighteen. Until next week of course," she added with a wink. It was another constant threat she liked to lord over him; the fact that she was the only Garden staff member who knew his birthday. Selphie had been trying to con her out of the date for years, and only through Squall's continuing acceptance of her methods and jibes did she not accidentally let it slip.

"Okay then," Squall breathed, unsure whether to be more relieved or disturbed by the diagnosis. "The extra weight is from the extra height. It is, relatively, normal for my age. As always, I remind you that if anyone else gets word of that date, I'll have you court marshaled for breaking confidentiality. So we're done. I'll see you at the Festival."

"**Hold it!**" He was halfway to the door with one arm through the sleeve of his shirt when the doctor's stern voice forced him to freeze. "Back on the counter. We're most definitely **not** done."

Squall groaned and threw his head back. "Don't you have other patients to see?"

"Yes. But first I have to ask you a few questions and I need you to answer them honestly. Can you do that?"

Dropping the shirt onto the floor, he obediently hopped back onto the examination table. "If it'll get me out of here faster...sure."

Kadowaki flipped the file closed and replaced it on the desk behind her. She approached him then, her face oddly studious, eyeballs spinning as they searched the depths of his eyes while Squall, against all natural impulses to turn away, forced himself to hold her stare.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" she asked in a simultaneously threatening and hopeful tone.

The Commander felt his stomach drop to the floor, but years of training allowed him to keep his composure. "No."

"So, you're saying you haven't been consuming non-council approved, strength enhancing supplements?"

At this, he could only narrow his eyes, which the good doctor apparently translated as a confession.

"Those things are dangerous Squall! What were you thinking?"

"Wait. Slow down. That silence was in no way an admission to anything. It was meant to point out how absurd the question was."

"I know you were feeling weak and pathetic for being in that chair and then the crutches for so long, so I don't blame you for wanting to-"

"You said yourself it was only a growth spurt."

"Squall...look at yourself," she gestured to his still exposed torso as if it was the most blatant of evidence. "You didn't look like that two weeks ago. All your life, the life I've witnessed firsthand, you've been the scrawniest of kids despite intense training."

"Whatever you're thinking, that's your prerogative. But before you sound any alarms, here." He held his arm up as an offering, fist clenched and inner elbow exposed. "Take a blood sample for reputation's sake. I'm not _on_ anything. I was feeling weak and pathetic so I've been training more intensely. That's all it is, and all it's ever going to be."

Kadowaki stared into his eyes again, gradually slinking closer. With truth and justice on his side this time though, Squall found he could easily stare her down.

In the end, she faltered.

"Fine," the doctor conceded curtly, retrieving a swab, needle, elastic and an assortment of vials from a drawer beside them. "But Hyne help you if you're lying."

"Like I'd ever dare to cross you Aiko," he shot back with a slight smirk, to which the older woman couldn't help but mirror, albeit hesitantly.

As she began the process of filling the vials with dark red liquid, Dr. Kadowaki couldn't help but let her eyes wander. The extra weight had filled him exactly where he needed it in the biceps, pectorals and abdominals, and the height brought him up to an above average six feet. Considering that she had, personally, manhandled almost every cadet, SeeD and faculty member in this building, it was her unbiased opinion that Commander Leonhart's new form was one, if not THE, most perfectly developed male soldier specimens for miles. As part of a purely scientific ranking system of course.

"Kadowaki?" her patient inquired, forcing her gaze to snap back up into his face.

The Commander was looking at her knowingly, one eyebrow raised in mock offense. "Look all you want. As long as you don't touch."

The joke had its intended effect. As Dr. Aiko Kadowaki, for the first time in years, was rendered completely and utterly speechless.

* * *

She couldn't say that she hadn't been warned, just that a natural inclination toward optimism forced her to give all people the benefit of the doubt at first. That philosophy was perhaps a bit naive, she could admit that now. In her defense, Nida and Selphie were hardly the most reliable of sources. They had always been much too keen to absorb, enhance and regurgitate the minutest truths into epic scandals; a specialized alchemy of converting molehills into lush, mountainous landmasses.

So when they came to discuss the new SeeD transferred from Galbadia, she acknowledged their warnings as one would those of a child referring to the monster under the bed. Surely they were exaggerating. After all, the girl was so young, a fresh graduate, and so petite and relatively pretty. There was no way it could all be true.

Those doubts were now long gone, buried deep in a corner of her mind along with childhood fantasies of musical kittens and diamond shoes.

This girl was completely and totally _crazy_.

The explosion had erupted to the left of Rinoa's ear and its echo plus the committee members' gasps permeated the ballroom for long, still seconds. It was only after the bullet casing hit the floor that Rinoa turned to Selene - young, petite, and pretty Selene - nimbly returning her smoking pistol-blade to its sheath on her hip.

"I said no balloons," she grumbled in a voice years beyond her true age "they're tacky." The sorceress followed her glare to a terrified cadet across the dance floor with slightly singed eyebrows, now holding nothing but a handful of loose ribbons.

If it had been any other person, Rinoa would have possibly been impressed by their aim, or slightly amused by the over-the-top-ness of the reaction or, most likely, experienced a terror that would have led to tackling the perpetrator to the ground and screaming for security. But over the past weeks of working with the most unique decorating lead the Festival has ever had, the shooting of inanimate objects had become disturbingly common. As proven when, within a few seconds, the near-victim simply sighed and returned to arranging centerpieces. The rest of the volunteer crew brushed the incident off just as easily and returned to work. All except one.

"It's not worth ittttt…." Zell whispered in a sing-song voice before she had even taken a step.

Rinoa spun to face him, annoyed that he too had sided with indifference over integrity. He sat cross-legged by the edge of the stage, order sheets spread all around him with his eyes purposefully focused on the one in his hand and nothing else. The perfect portrait of a coward.

"This is getting ridiculous!" she hissed while gesturing with a quick jab to the scene behind them. "Someone has to do something."

"No. We passed ridiculous last Wednesday when she made Samsin _volunteer _to eat his own shoelace. He'll testify to that too, so don't bother with the disciplinary committee."

"She could have killed that girl!"

"No she couldn't have. Not if she didn't intend to. Relax."

"Relax! Seriously? I'm being forced to spend my every waking hour with an armed sadist fluffing tulle and you're telling me to relax?"

Zell only smirked his infamous lopsided smirk, one that begged and sometimes succeeded in convincing people that all was bright and shiny and right in the world. Regrettably, the last few weeks had also made her immune to it.

"No. No, I'm not letting it go this time. That girl should be in an asylum, not in a Garden and especially not in any position of power, however trivial!" At that Zell chuckled, only fueling the fire of her rage. "This isn't funny!"

"Sorry…haha…sorry Rin, it's just…well…" his eyes lifted to regard the short tempered redhead now ripping apart a rosette one of her assistants had brought over. His smile widened. "Let's just say that we've survived worse before and Balamb Garden is quite comfortable with crazy. Though I must admit it's an acquired taste. Figured you of all people would be used to it by now."

Rinoa couldn't help but roll her eyes before leaning her head back to scan the decorator with an attempted unbiased eye.

She still didn't see it.

'_Twins separated at birth, competing to be named the "evil" one,'_ some of the more creative gossip artists had whispered. Perhaps physically, from far away, she could see how one might think that. What with both their bronze-hued hair, vivid eyes and small yet muscular frames. Also, perhaps because she was the first female SeeD to insist on wearing the male uniform with the excuse that a skirt ruined her dexterity. And both having chosen and mastered a difficult weapon like a bladed automatic certainly didn't help. And, perhaps, the tone of their voices as well. The way they both spoke in short, gruff commands. The way both she and he could stand so still and tireless for hours on end. Also that same startling need they had to have everything done not only right, but perfect.

Still, despite all that, she doubted Squall had ever even been as…difficult.

As if reading her thoughts, Zell chuckled again. "Did I ever tell you about the time, back in our cadet days, when Squall left his rowing partner out in the middle of a lake with nothing but a piece of driftwood? Said the swim back would teach the guy not to be so inept as to fall off the boat next time and Quistis got soooo mad. Said the lessons were hers to assign and dying of hypothermia wasn't one of them. The guy had a horrid cough for weeks which Squall could hear through the walls of his dorm. He said that having to listen to it was punishment enough." He laughed some more, smacking his knee in exaggerated mirth. "Oh, _classic_ Leonhart."

Rinoa could only bite her lip as she continued to watch Selene watching her workers. The girl stood rigid, chin downward, hands crossed on her male-uniform belt buckle, seemingly made of stone except for the fingers of her right hand which flexed every once in a while towards her sheathed weapon. It was if she were surveying prisoners on labor duty instead of fellows SeeDs and cadets prepping for a party. Always ready for an unexpected fight. Exactly like someone else she knew intimately.

It came creeping up again then. The doubt. The belief that all people, no matter how stoic, all had the same, sometimes buried longing to be loved. All they needed was a little inspiration. Maybe a persistent kindly face. A welcoming friend.

It was the same conclusion she came to in the middle of each day, and yet every night so far resulted in nothing but anger and dejection. But maybe, just maybe, today would be different. After all, even the girl's male "twin" had succumbed eventually.

"Hi Selene!" she called while sauntering over, hoping against all hope that the hesitation didn't show in her steps. Zell was left to his giggling.

Selene slowly turned to face her. "Hello Ress," she greeted in a tone that was saturated in malice, inspiring Rinoa's fake smile to stretch to near painful limits. That was one of the primary differences between Selene and Squall. While his scorn was revealed through inaction and ignorance, this girl's was much more involved and immature; a more typical sort of bullying that included slight violence, sarcasm and hurtful nicknames.

'Ress' had come to be after one too many times of being referred to as the insolently formal 'Sorceress Rinoa'. _"Please," _Rinoa remembered asking with her charisma turned on high _"It's unnecessary to use my _whole_ title, if only because it takes too long to say! You can call me just Rinoa, or Rin or Rinny. Anything else is fine with me, I swear." _Thus the abbreviation was generated; fulfilling Rinoa's request for shortness as well as Selene's desire that the sorceress never forget she was untrusted.

Today was the first day she didn't bother trying to correct the girl. Ress she would remain, especially if it meant she was that much closer to winning her favor or at least losing the contempt.

"The place is looking great!" she said as she came to stand by her side, and it was an easy enough statement to say with enthusiasm. She was certain that the ballroom had never looked better, and even Cid, who had attended every event for two decades, had to agree. Selene's talents in terror had convinced the fabric merchants to provide silk streamers for the price of polyester, the florists brought heaps of blue and cream roses as cheap as the common daisy and every volunteer was putting in quadruple the expected hours crafting elaborate, tiered centerpieces, strings of jeweled lights, new paint and mirrors on the walls as well as building an an entirely new, technologically impressive concert stage.

All was on budget as well as ahead of schedule. Selphie had been so impressed, though also intimidated, that she had been struggling to find her own special touch to add to this, the largest Festival ever, which was meant to be her pride and glory. And judging by the way the girl was now racing toward them, pulling a cart leaden with crates behind her as if they weighed nothing, Rinoa guessed she had found her gimmick.

"GUYS! EVERYBODY! COME QUICK!" Selene followed the instruction a little too eagerly, obviously relieved to be free of idle chit-chat with the enemy. Rinoa couldn't help but feel her throat tighten in disappointment but had little time to dwell as Selphie was personally flagging her over with wildly flailing hands. "GET A MOVE ON! WAIT TILL YOU SEE! IT'S GOING TO BE EPIC!"

One by one, the girls of the Festival committee dropped their tasks and sauntered over, almost all of them murmuring excitedly to one another. Selene and Rinoa, as the only other female administrators, ended up alone together in the center of the semi circle; quite awkwardly silent as they waited for the announcement.

Before the last of the ladies was within hearing range, Selphie could no longer contain herself. "This is officially going to be the best festival ever now! Because we have some extra time thanks to our amazing team's efficiency, I've come up with the most _brilliant, bodacious _and _bombastical _idea to crush the competition!" Her tone was nearly on the same frequency as a fanatical sales rep pushing what was known to be an superfluous product. Rinoa was tempted to ask what exactly 'bombastical' meant, but all urges to tease were instantly forgotten when the Festival coordinator finally presented her wares.

Her bombastical plan was suddenly, excruciatingly obvious. And it was far from pretty.

"You have got to be kidding me?"

Selphie lips, originally arranged into a wide an exuberant grin, fell as quickly as though the corners were pulled by weighted strings.

"What's wrong?" she whined with exaggerated innocence, eyes frantically scanning the other members of the group who seemed to be having similar though less verbal reactions. "Come on guys! It's just for ONE song. As a welcome! You know the White SeeDs will appreciate seeing some leg after so many months on the cold seas."

Rinoa winced, holding the garment up by the shoulders and turning it around, just to give it the benefit of the doubt. Alas, the decision was final. "Nope. No way. I'm not wearing this."

"I agree with Ress," piped in Selene in her first show of solidarity, a similar expression of disgust on her face. "We're military sanctioned organizers, not burlesque entertainers."

"Exactly! Thank you Selene."

The red-headed SeeD shrugged, roughly tossing her costume back into its box. "Whatever. If you wanted to do a dance number, you should have left room in the budget for actual dancers."

"I know, I know," grumbled Selphie, picking at the sequins of her own costume's headband. "I just thought it would be fun, that's all! Something special for our sea-faring brothers. And, not to mention, a little Festival committee girl bonding thing, ya know?"

"_Binding_, more like it," quipped another volunteer, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "These things look tight...really...form fitting." Something about her tone, holding just a hint of appeal, and Selphie took the opportunity to pounce.

"They're amazing, actually! I bought them from this _magical_ little seamstress in Dollet. The material of the bodice is this stretch fabric that sucks you in pushes your chest up, giving anyone an instant, voluptuous hourglass shape!"

"Really?" Another girl, Linzey, was hooked. "And...these petals skirted coats. They are pretty cute."

"They flip up when you twirl," giggled Selphie. Soon enough, to both Rinoa and Selene's horror, the rest of the girls were digging into the boxes.

"Maybe if we just try them on..."

"Oh look! They come with the White SeeD bandanas! I was always so jealous of their uniform."

"Eek! The sleeves are detachable! That is so awesome. Hahaha. And the pants are lined with velcro!"

"Oh Hyne," muttered Rinoa while she and her only other sane co-worker slowly backed away from the ensuing mob. "She gonna make us do a semi-strip show at the Festival isn't she? The White SeeDs will arrive and we'll be all _'Welcome to Balamb! Watch as we desecrate your proud uniform into these skimpy little tutus!'_. Oh geez, there's totally going to be a riot, isn't there?"

"Depends," Selene replied calmly. "Are the White SeeDs mostly male?"

Rinoa forced the one fragment of her mind that wasn't panicking to consider the question. "I've seen a few women, but they wear the same uniform as the men so it's hard to distinguish."

"What's the ratio?"

"I dunno..."

"Guess."

"Umm..." Another girl had just discovered the grey short-shorts that went beneath the leotard-coat contraptions, causing Rinoa to almost trip over her own feet. "I- I guess...one woman to every, like, eight guys?"

"Then we'll be fine." Apparently satisfied, Selene reversed her path to join the rest of the girls digging through the costume boxes, leaving Rinoa alone and gaping by the edge of the dance floor.

"Selene!" she called, nervously approaching the group as if they were a pack of wild behemoths. "You- you can't be serious?"

If even the woman who had, literally, cut down a flower arrangement that was deemed 'too garishly bright' was game to participate, what chance did she have in resisting?

Not a shot in the-island-closest-to-hell, according to her co-worker turned nightmare enforcer.

"Here," she called while tossing over her previously discarded garment, which Rinoa caught with shaking hands. "If I'm doing this, you're doing it. I've known Selphie for less than a month and I've already learned not to fight her Festival will. So suck it up Ress. This number is happening."

Luckily, there wasn't time for a full-on panic attack. For Nida slapped a hand onto her shoulder and spun her around to face him.

"Hey! Quick question."

"Me first," Rinoa interrupted, spreading the ludicrously revealing costume across her own torso. "What do you think of this?"

With a short sigh, Nida scanned her from head to toe in the span of half a second. "Cute. Moving on-"

"No. Not _cute_." Bunching up the garment before slamming it down at her feet, she fixed him with an annoyed glare. "_Disturbing_. _Offensive_. _Grossly inappropriate_. Those are the words that should have instantly sprung to mind!"

"Let it go Rinoa." Selene appeared at their side, reaching to retrieve and fold the suit. "This is out of your hands."

"Ha! Like Quistis will approve of us just traipsing out on stage-"

"And getting the White SeeDs riled up and impressed enough by our ease of attitude to maybe consider pressing their Captain to join the World Army and all the benefits its funding allows, leading to one less wild card mercenary organization on the prowl? I think she has already approved. Am I right Commander Aldran?"

Nida's eyes instinctively narrowed. "We are..." he cleared his throat, straining to morph into his new, severe leader personae. "Officially, we had promised to no longer approach the White SeeDs with World Council matters, as they prefer to remain independent."

" Coincidence then that you invited them to a _party_ that happens to also be a summit meeting?"

Nida and Selene glared at each other for a while, Rinoa standing awkwardly in between. She should have known. This was Garden after all. Nothing they did was ever without a grander purpose.

Soon enough, Nida's lips began to twitch. Until, eventually, it was his usual amused grin. "You're good," he commented at last.

"I'm the best," Selene assured with a short nod.

"And I guess I've since become a stripper," Rinoa finished with a groan. "Great."

"You know, with all your other responsibilities, I'm sure Selphie wouldn't mind too much if-"

"No, no. I don't want any special treatment. I'll take the bullet with the rest of these girls, Hyne help us."

"Good. I'll make extra sure to bring my camera then." He had to jump to avoid the multiple kicks sent in his direction, and chuckled exuberantly when he succeeded. "Moving on from what is sure to be the most I will ever laugh in my life; Rinoa, look at the stage."

Through narrowed eyes, she did as she was told, seeing for the first time the full orchestra all properly positioned on cascading tiers curving around the back wall of the ballroom.

"Wow..." she couldn't help but breathe, awed by the mass of people either tweaking their instruments, chatting or, in majority, staring down at the three of them. "Good work on the, um, finding them all. I can't wait to hear them practice."

"Yes. Practice. Good idea. I would love that to. But, as you can see, we're kind of missing something."

Rinoa scanned the tiers again, noting that every seat was filled, each with an instrument and freshly printed music sheets balanced on their stands. All of them seemed to be more than ready to play, their fingers practically twitching in anticipation. "What's the problem?"

"The soloist isn't here," Selene voiced at last, annoyed with the run around games. "Nida wants to ask if you know where he is?"

"I..." Rinoa gulped, noting at last the central music stand alone on the stage.

Squall was late. And Squall was never late.

"I assume the Commander has...pressing appointments..."

"Where and when did you last see him?" Selene asked brusquely, causing Rinoa to instantly blush.

"Upstairs," she managed to blurt out after an intense few seconds of wondering when the cameras may have last picked them up together. "At around ten. About. Maybe. He...said he had an appointment. With Kadowaki. In the infirmary. He said that, and went straight there. I think."

"Has she always been this bad a liar?" Selene asked Nida, and Rinoa felt her heart jump into her throat.

"What do you-"

"Excuse me?" an echoing voice interrupted, causing all three committee members to whip their heads toward the stage. Standing in the center of the semi-circled orchestra, a bow slung over his shoulder and the violin tapping against his knee, stood Commander Leonhart.

"Squall!" exclaimed Nida before rushing to the edge of the stage. "I thought you weren't coming."

"Sorry," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head with the tip of the bow. "Kadowaki was particularly chatty today. Won't happen again."

"No. It's cool. Just glad. OKAY PEOPLE!" The musicians in the stands instantly perked up. "We have just a few minutes left to practice timing! Let's run through it once and then we'll review! On my mark!"

The room fell silent. Decorators stopped fiddling with their crepe paper, the caterers stopped setting up their tables, even the squealing of Selphie and her gang trying on the high-heeled combat boots their costumes came with, silenced themselves as the piano began its opening notes.

The background violins began their lengthy, shuddering tone, followed by the flutes fluttering and clarinets playing a soft reminder of the melody. The space seemed to gradually fill with the intense vibrations of sound, felt through the marble floor tiles and seen in the trembling chandeliers. Rinoa felt it surround her, enveloping her lungs, heart and stomach.

Finished with their introduction, everyone turned the page in their music book, and then Squall was positioning his instrument under his chin, loosening his bow arm, waiting for the cue. It was strange watching him hold an instrument, even though it shouldn't have been.

Then, all too soon yet not nearly soon enough, he began to play. He played the haunting melody in a way that reminding them all of the way he wielded his weapon. Every note was quickly yet cautiously planned. Every stroke, long and smooth, almost surgically precise. Though he lacked the usual physical expression that most musicians couldn't help but reveal, he made up for it through the music alone - made all the more passionate thanks to his stoic stance. As if the place where the bow and strings met were a temporary breach in his facade, finally allowing the passion, that only she knew existed, to escape for others to revel in.

Though she couldn't fathom how he had found the time to practice, Nida had been right in assuming that he would not only pull it off, but succeed in bringing the music to life better than anyone else could ever hope too. And Rinoa, despite the cliché, felt herself falling in love with him all over again.

"Holy Pandemona..." Selphie was whispering to her entourage back at the far edge of the dance floor, all eyes stuck to the stage. She had thought Nida had been exaggerating Squall's talents due to his envy issues, and was pleasantly surprised to learn otherwise. "Who knew that Garden's most jaded resident could have such style?"

"Yeah. And just when I thought he couldn't get any more beautiful," added Linzey, fanning herself. "Seriously, how did you survive months of traveling with that man and not become lost in his eyes?"

Selphie was barely able to suppress a wretch. "The same way you survive months of traveling with an angry T-Rex whom you also kinda consider your brother; by keeping my distance, ignoring him for the most part, and not engaging him unless he's satiated off the fear and revulsion of other group members."

"Oh he can't be that bad," piped in the blonde one who's name Selphie had yet to register. "I heard that yesterday he helped Crista, from level 10 class C, piece back together her History shadowbox project after she tripped in the hallway. She's refusing to wash the hand he touched!"

"Well that's just unhygienic," she cringed, astounded as always as to how obsessed some of these girls were with the notoriously insensitive Commander. Despite her previous belief that everyone had a soft side, over the years she had frequently scanned the guy and continued to find only infinite, solid rock. Squall, as always, was the exception that proved the rule. "I recommend not wasting your time of such pointless fantasies girls," the older SeeD cautioned, confidently flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Now Sir Laguna... HE is a much more-"

"I heard that last week," another cadet interrupted "he gave the entire cafeteria staff cash bonuses out of his own salary! Also, he supervised a deep forest expedition with the junior classmen just cause one kid asked. Isn't that soooo sweet!"

Selphie blinked. Squall hated children, proving that these rumors had gone one step past ridiculous. "No offense girls, but that simply can't be true. Commander Leonhart had actually petitioned a few months ago to move the junior grades to another building."

"No it is! My little sister was in the class that went. She said he killed and cooked a caterchipiller for them all and told them stories of the war. She actually made me regret not being seven anymore."

Selphie laughed, shaking her head, simply unable to believe it. "No. No way! He hung up on me when I suggested he make a silly little toast during the summit dinner. Practically slammed the door on my fingers when I asked to borrow the Ragnarok to pick up some flowers in Centra. There is no possible way he did all that other nice stuff willingly."

"Well...I don't exactly see a gun to his head _now_. Do you?" the blonde cadet asked with a haughty smile. Yet again, their focus returned to the stage where Squall was wrapping up the final notes of the piece with the full orchestra's whispering instruments complimenting his every movement. And when he was finished, after one drawn out and smooth key to complete the song, there was a full ten seconds of tense silence before the entire room burst out into applause.

Squall smiled in response. An actual _real, _grateful smile, before modestly bowing his head to the small crowd that had gathered at the edge of the stage.

Selphie couldn't help but feel her heart twinge a little at the sight. She realized then, in the years they had worked together, she had never actually seen him smile. Not really. Especially not in the past year in his role of mega-co-douche-mander.

In fact, she abruptly noted, it had been a few weeks since she had heard any tales of his classic rampages. He hadn't threatened, insulted or physically harmed anyone since his cast had been removed, since he had made the decision to become Captain and tour the Gardens alongside Rinoa.

Strange...

With a rejuvenated curiosity, Selphie's eyes wandered over to her raven-haired friend. She was standing in the center of the applauding group, hands clasped together, eyes wide and shimmering with painfully obvious adoration. There was nothing shocking about that. Rinoa being in love with Squall was as old news as Zell being in love with hot dogs. Hardly worth noting.

The difference this time around could be deduced via three other key players.

There was Nida; standing in the corner with his arms across his chest, seemingly relieved that the piece performed so flawlessly, but simultaneously depressed.

Selene; who's demeanor practically screamed that she was sent here for reasons beyond simple studying, had positioned herself exactly to the sorceresses' right, as if to breathe in her every reaction.

And then there was Squall. Smiling.

Squall Leonhart was actually _smiling._

It was all the evidence anyone needed.

"Kayle," she grabbed the closest Festival minion by the shoulder, coincidentally the medical SeeD who had helped them retrieve and stitch up the Commander's leg during the original shooting incident. He had been conscripted to her committee as punishment for giving a critically bleeding patient alcohol as pain relief. Obviously he wasn't the sharpest katana in the weapon's locker, but at least he worked hard. "Bring me the Festival agenda. I have some changes to make."

"Now! Again?" the cadet screeched with unabashed panic. "But the Festival is in only a few days-"

"I know, I know," she waved his concern away. "It's not gonna be as big a deal as the dance number. Just a little…something." Again, she focused on her two friends, obviously avoiding each other's gaze in a failed attempt at keeping it cool. It was pathetic, really. Especially in a building where a quarter of the residents were trained to weasel out secrets. Why bother?

Speaking of secrets…she remembered how Rinoa had begged her to forget about it when she accidentally discovered the date scribbled on her personal calendar, but that had been before this congenial attitude of his had surfaced. Surely, as a reformed bloodthirsty maniac, Squall wouldn't mind a little recognition. He might even enjoy it, as evidenced by today's performance.

And so, with a wicked grin, Selphie whipped the tablet out of Kayle's hands and added another, tiny insertion to the event schedule.

"Happy. Birthday. Captain. Leonhart." She finished with an overly vigorous pressing of the period button.

This really was going to be the most memorable Festival ever.

* * *

**Authors Notes: **Hello folks. Long time no see. News of the past year: I've finally completed my FFVII fic, w00t! I got married on June 30th, yay! I am participating in Ashbear's FFVIII "Where I Belong" fanfiction challenge and it will include a never before seen prologue to "Possession", woohoo!

I will be concentration on this fic from now on and am happy to be doing so. Keeping up two stories at a time was simply too much considering my lack of free time. Anyway, I had the first half of this written for months and tacked on the ending just today (luckily, Selphie's voice doesn't require much refinement.) I hope you enjoy and please stayed tuned for the prequel story entitled "A Stone's Throw", the first half which will be posted on my birthday (August 7th) and the second half on Squall's birthday (August 23rd).

Thank you, as always, for your support. As you know, reviews = faster updates .

- May (Nancy)


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